


Becomes the Color

by Faircatch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Empathy, F/M, Fire, Hunters, M/M, Multi, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sentinel/Guide, Slow Build, Soul Bond, The Hale Fire, True Mates, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 65,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faircatch/pseuds/Faircatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Due to a sort of... backlash from people... I don't have immediate plans of finishing this fic very soon.  I apologize for those who have read or will read it.  Just got put off by people who didn't like where I was going with it.  Eventually, I will finish it but I won't post chapter by chapter - it will just be done and put up at once.  I redid the story which you can read here as:  <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3756688?view_full_work=true"> I Become the Color </a>, removing the elements that seemed to cause the most trouble for readers.  While I shouldn't let public opinion determine my writing, it got discouraging to move forward with what I was doing here - as I said, eventually I will come back to this after I Become the Color is done...)</p><p>High School feels like the most important time in a person's life - till they graduate.</p><p>The pack graduates High School and moves away from Beacon Hills and they all move on to the next stage of their lives.  Then one of them comes on-line as a Sentinel and the place they left, becomes the place they have to return to.  Of course when they come home again, they see that some people have moved on without them and others... well, some things never change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sound the Bells

**Author's Note:**

> (Due to a sort of... backlash from people... I don't have immediate plans of finishing this fic very soon. I apologize for those who have read or will read it. Just got put off by people who didn't like where I was going with it. Eventually, I will finish it but I won't post chapter by chapter - it will just be done and put up at once. I redid the story which you can read here as: [ I Become the Color ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3756688?view_full_work=true), removing the elements that seemed to cause the most trouble for readers. While I shouldn't let public opinion determine my writing, it got discouraging to move forward with what I was doing here - as I said, eventually I will come back to this after I Become the Color is done...)
> 
>  
> 
> So yeah, finally wrote some fan fiction I guess after reading so much of it. Inspired by Teen Wolf and The Sentinel AU's I've seen on here. I'm not sure if I'll finish this or what will happen to it... or if its any good. If there is interest, let me know! This will be a more fic than porn focused story no matter what since I don't think I'm any good at writing porn :/ 
> 
> This is my very first fanfic so... yeah, I'm nervous. 
> 
> As far as Sentinels: they are protectors with super senses. Guides are the ones that help them and most fanfic makes them into bonded pairs. Sentinels can Zone out which is when a Sentinel is too focused on one sense and become oblivious to others. Its dangerous and can require a Guide to get them out of. They can also go feral which is pretty self explanatory.
> 
> I'm basing the Sentinel/Guide relationship on a lot of previous fanfic. Sentinels with all heightened senses are termed Alphas. Most Sentinels have a few enhanced senses but it is rare to have Alphas and while Sentinels function best with Guides, they can work and live without them (and there are much fewer Guides than Sentinels). Guides also have different level of abilities. Alpha Guides can sense emotions as well as manipulate them, some even can read minds to a degree.
> 
> Sentinels are known in the world - werewolves are not.
> 
> Also, feedback is good. This is unbeta'd so any mistakes, please let me know. 
> 
> I don't own the characters, they are the property of Teen Wolf. (And this all follows fairly canon seasons 1-4)
> 
> Please do not REPOST this fic anywhere else without my consent. Please do not put it on GoodReads that is a site for PUBLISHED works, not fic.
> 
> (Title taken from the song "Becomes the Color" by Emily Wells)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... here we go...
> 
> Chapter title taken from a song of the same name by Dessa
> 
> __________________________________________________________

**Prologue**

Stiles hooked his messenger bag over his shoulder as he walked down the street towards his apartment, his other hand holding the cell phone to his ear while he talked to his father, “Dad, we’ve been over this like...  a million times,” it was hard to keep the frustration out of his voice, but they had this same conversation, literally, almost every time they spoke lately.  Seriously.

“I know that, but you never give me a decent reason as to why you won’t come home for your summer break,” his father sounded just as frustrated with him.

“I told you I have a job,” he looked both ways then crossed the street, jogging a bit at the end to avoid getting hit by a driver who clearly didn’t understand the concept of pedestrian right-of-way.  Stepping onto the sidewalk he added, “I’ll get more hours during the summer because I won’t have classes to work around.”

“You chose Berkley because you got a full scholarship so you wouldn’t have to work Stiles, and could focus on school!”

That wasn’t completely true.  

Well, the part about getting the full scholarship was true.  

But he chose Berkley because it meant his father wouldn’t have to pay a dime for it.  He didn’t want to add any more financial burdens to the man’s shoulders after years of it during high school.  While they didn’t talk about it, Stiles was sure his dad was still paying for hospital bills from those tests and brain scans during junior year.  Not to mention when the Sheriff got shot...

Of course he never told his father that was the real reason because he knew the man would tell him not to worry about it and that they’d have figured out a way.  The thing was... they wouldn’t have.  What would have happened is his father would have over extended himself and be paying bills till he ended up in the grave.  Stiles couldn’t live with that.  Besides, it wasn’t so bad - he _liked_ Berkley and it was a great school with all the programs he was interested in.  And another reason _had_ been because it wasn’t too far from home. 

“Dad, I need money to pay rent for my apartment and for food.” 

“An apartment you didn’t need to rent when the dorms were perfectly fine.”

Stiles rolled his eyes.  Two years was long enough in the dorms and this was an old discussion that didn’t need repeating, “Sure, if I never wanted any privacy.”

“You could have gone to the library--”

“Dad!” he immediately regretted snapping at his father, so he took a deep breath and tried again, straining to keep his voice even, “Look, I don’t see what the big deal is.  You can come visit me here like you did before.  If I come home you’ll be working shifts most of the time anyway, right?  This way, you can take off for a few days and we’ll have _actual_ time together.  It’ll be more fun.  Besides, there’s nothing to do in Beacon Hills.”  It was all perfectly logical and he didn’t understand why his father wasn’t getting it.

 _“_ Stiles...” his dad’s voice softened, “Don’t you want to see your friends?”

Sometimes he wished the man wasn’t so perceptive, “I talk to them all the time.”

“But you don’t see them.”

“We Skype.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Just about...”

He heard his father sigh over the line and had to stop himself from doing it as well.  “Did something happen?  I mean, since the last time you were here...  I don’t know, you’ve been pulling away.”

“I’m not pulling away Dad...” _I’m avoiding._ There was a difference.

“You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know,” _But not about this._   The last thing Stiles wanted to do was relieve the moment out loud that seemed to have itself on repeat in his brain, skipping over and over like a bad recording.

 

 _“Stiles... it isn’t a good idea.  I can’t do this with you,” his eyes were full of pity_...

 

Stiles shuddered and tried to focus on his father’s voice to push aside the memory, even though his chest tightened and his heart stuttered.  

“Son, I can’t force you to tell me anything... But just know anytime you want...”

“I do know Dad.  I do,” he rubbed the center of his chest and paused at the corner across the street from his apartment building, “Look, I’m almost home and...” He smelled gas.

His brows came together as he looked around, people passing by him, talking and oblivious.  The smell though was intense and made him gag.

“Stiles?” his father called to him through the phone.

He brought the back of his hand up to his nose, wanting to block out the scent.  Didn’t anyone else smell it?  How was no one else aware this?  Why were they all ignoring it?  Stiles turned, trying to locate the source, but he couldn’t see anything strange... no trucks or power and gas employees.  Lightheaded from the stench he was sure if someone caused a spark, the whole world would blow up.  

Of course, thinking that way, he shouldn’t really have been surprised when that’s exactly what happened.

The world exploded in a huge flash of light and sound.  

The last thing Stiles heard was his father calling his name from far away and then there was just silence.


	2. Let's Talk about Spaceships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... decided to push through and do another chapter today to give a bit more than just the prologue. As before, this is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine (any volunteers in the future to do that?) - please let me know if there are any errors!
> 
> Not sure how this will go, but any comments are welcome! 
> 
> Sorry if this is a bit wordy... just some back story stuff.
> 
> (Chapter title from song by Say Hi To Your Mom)
> 
> _______________________________________________

**4 Months Later**

“I have missed your lasagna Mom,” Scott said, taking another serving and plopping it on his plate.  

Melissa McCall chuckled as she passed the salad bowl to him, “Make sure to have some greens with that,” she shook her head, watching as her son piled the food on.  It was always questionable whether or not his appetite was growing-boy related or werewolf-related.  Either way, she was sure her son had a bottomless pit of a stomach.

Kira offered the Sheriff some wine, “Can I pour for you, Sheriff Stilinski?” 

“Oh, no dear, I’m on shift in an hour or so,” he smiled and shook his head, “Still can’t get over you kids being of legal drinking age.” 

“Tell me about it,” Melissa sighed.

“We can vote, we can drink, we can even do laundry!” Scott smirked.

“Well, I do the laundry,” Kira corrected, smirking back.

Before his Mom could scold him, Scott quickly injected, “I do the dishes!”

“Good!” Melissa pat his cheek, “Then you shouldn’t mind doing the dishes after dinner tonight.”

His mouth opened to protest, but he wisely decided to clamp it shut and accept his fate when his mother gave him her _‘Mom’_ look. Deftly she continued the conversation, “So, how’s Liam liking college?  Big change from high school I bet.”

“He sounded good the last time I spoke to him.  He’s just trying to balance lacrosse with his school work, like always.” Being the good Alpha he was, Scott kept close contact with Liam, calling him at least once a week if not more.  He had done so while the younger pack member had still been in high school.  Moving to Fresno to attend the University of California with Kira didn’t mean losing his pack. “Getting the lacrosse scholarship to go to Cal State was great, but he’s looking to go pro and that’s a lot of pressure.  He doesn’t want to blow it.  I’ve tried my best to make sure he knows to dial down the werewolf stuff when he plays.  Last thing we want is to draw attention to some super athlete and I know how easy it is to fall into depending on all the wolfy superpowers.”

“Well, for his father’s sake, I hope he gets a degree.” 

“I made sure he knew it was important.”

“Well, I think it’s great that you’re still looking out for him.” His mother smiled, pride reflected in her eyes.

Scott shrugged, “I’m his Alpha.”

“I think it’s more than you just being his Alpha,” the Sheriff raised an eyebrow.

The young man smiled softly, gazing down at his plate as he took in the warmth that the compliment gave him.  It really wasn’t easy to keep the ties strong with everyone, especially when the pack was spread out so much.  Danny was going to NYU in New York and Lydia was at MIT in Boston and of course, Isaac was still in France.

“No word from Malia?” Melissa asked before taking a sip of her water.

“Not really...” he sighed, but no one expected differently at this point.

After graduation, Malia’s father, Henry Tate, had moved them both to Nevada for a fresh start since she had no plans to go to college or university.  Most likely because she had barely graduated and was still getting her feet under her about being a human rather than a coyote.  Derek had offered to set her up so she could stay in Beacon Hills, they were family after all, but Malia refused, saying she really had nothing to keep her staying there.  Her birth father, Peter, was still a nut job, more interested in playing mind games than connecting with his daughter and after things in Mexico, her relationship with Stiles sort of... drifted.  When Scott had asked Stiles about it, his best friend had said, _“We just don’t love each other... I mean, we like each other, yeah, but it’s not like you and Kira.  Neither of us see it going anywhere so why keep trying to make something happen that isn’t going to?”_   They remained friends till graduation when everyone went to pursue the next stage of their lives.  

Scott did his best to keep in touch with Malia.  Derek heard from her more, but it was sporadic.  All he knew was that she was doing okay and that’s all he could ask for.  

Kira placed a hand on Scott’s knee and gave it a gentle squeeze of support.  His dark eyes rose to gaze at her with affection.  He was eternally grateful for Kira in his life.  She kept him grounded in a strange way - kept him from feeling too down on himself and helped lift him when he felt like things were too hard to handle.  He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have gotten through the news about Stiles without her. 

“So how’s school going son?” the Sheriff asked, poking at some of the salad that he obviously forced himself to put on his plate - still trying to keep a healthy diet even without Stiles there to badger him about it.  

“It’s all right.  Harder than I thought it would be,” Scott shrugged, “I’m lucky I had so much experience working with Deaton at the Animal Clinic.”  

“It’s only going to get harder as you go on... You sure you want to keep pursuing your dreams of being a Veterinarian?” his mother asked, her brow rising, “I mean, there are other things you can do.” she was supportive of her son’s career choice but she always felt obligated to give him options when he complained.

“No,” he shook his head, “I really want to be a Vet.  I saw Deaton today and he reassured me that I have a job waiting for me at the clinic and besides, I want to come back to Beacon Hills.”  Scott didn’t have to tell them that he felt connected to the town, to the land.  He always planned on coming back to Beacon Hills in one way or another.  “And I like working with animals.”

“What about you Kira?  How’s school?  And how are your parents?” the Sheriff asked.

“School is good--”

“Kira is amazing!” Scott gushed, “I mean, you should see what she’s doing.”

The young woman rolled her eyes as she blushed a bit, “I’m not amazing, but I am doing good in school.  I really like my classes.” It had worked out pretty well that her parents returned to New York City so her father could go back to teaching in NYU.  Mr. Yukimura had actually gotten in touch with Danny and had sort of adopted the young man to look after him.  Danny was pretty self-sufficient, but being far from home was always rough and having someone who knew about the weirdness of Beacon Hills was nice.  “They keep suggesting I move to New York  after I graduate, where my degree in Interior Design will be appreciated.  But I don’t want to.  I’d rather stay here.  Besides, the only reason I’m studying Interior Design in the first place is because they wanted me to do something other than be ‘an artist’ which they think isn’t a real career.  They didn’t think it was a good use of my time.” She sighed and fidgeted, “Sorry.” Kira winced then tried to give a smile, but it was clear she was uncomfortable.

Melissa reached over to take the young woman’s hand, squeezing it and offering a smile, “Good parents only want what’s best for their children.  That doesn’t mean they always know what that is.”  

The Sheriff grunted softly in agreement, but his eyes were down on his plate.  Scott gazed at the man quietly, noticing how many more age lines marked the areas around his eyes and mouth - the more visible grays in his hair.  Certainly they were all normal signs of growing older, but it bothered him to see how things had worn on the Sheriff who had become a sort of father to him - more of one than his own.  

Speaking of which... 

“So... Dad wants to come and see us for Thanksgiving,” he wrinkled his nose.

“Oh,” his mother blinked, “Well, honey, that’s up to you and Kira.  You know you’re always welcome here if you want.”

“Well, we have the apartment,” Kira gestured between herself and her boyfriend, “And we um, thought maybe you could come and stay with us and have Thanksgiving with us too.  My parents will be visiting to spend the holiday, but they’ll be staying in a hotel.”

“I really can’t afford a hotel,” Melissa protested.

“We have the pullout couch,” Scott said, leaning forward a bit eagerly.  He’d gotten the couch so that any time any of his friends wanted to visit, there would be place for them - that there’d be no excuse for them to stay away or not to stay at all.  

The nurse chuckled, “And if I’m on the pullout couch, that means your father can’t use it and would have to get a hotel room instead?” One brow rose in judgement while she crossed her arms on the table.

It was amazing how perceptive his mother could be.  Scott was sure that in another life, the woman was a detective, because _nothing_ got past her.  “Well... yeah.  But I want you there too!  I hate the thought of not seeing you for Thanksgiving.  We haven’t missed one yet!”

“I don’t know...”

“Aw come on!  You don’t get out to Fresno all that often.  You won’t have to cook.  Kira and I will do it all.  We’ll even take the pullout couch so you can have our bed!  And there’s this great spa that Kira’s been dying to take you to.”

Kira nodded eagerly, “Oh it’s great!  They do this thing with rocks and they have this awesome facial!”

“Okay, okay!” Melissa held up her hands, relenting, “I’m out numbered here!  All right.  I’ll make sure I get the days off for Thanksgiving and come out to Fresno.  But you make sure you tell your Father.  No blindsiding him at the last minute.”  Then, as if realizing the Sheriff was there, her expression softened sadly, “Oh, I’m sorry... I mean, we didn’t talk about it...”

The man held up his hand to stop her, “No, no... It’s fine Melissa.  You guys’ll have a great time.” He shrugged, “Most of the time I have a shift on Thanksgiving anyway.  That’s why Stiles usually ended up at your house for dinner...” his voice trailed off and his focus on his food grew more intent.

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the table with no one knowing what to say.  Well, actually Scott had questions to ask, but it felt impossible to get them past his lips.

“Um...” Kira, as always, was the one to try to break the awkward - whether it ended up more or less awkward afterward was always the question, “So, how are things with the Recovery Center?” 

Scott gave her a silent shake of his head, unsure if that was a good topic to go to, but Kira only made a helpless face and shrugged. 

“Now _that_ place...  God what a headache.” the Sheriff groaned, rubbing his forehead, “Mrs. Wakowski calls every other day, sure that one of those ‘Sentinel people’ is spying on her through her window.  Greenberg has been over there to assure that no one is spying on her so much, he can probably drive the route with his eyes closed.  The mayor might be thrilled about the revenue and jobs that place brings in, but she doesn’t have to deal with them.”

Over a year ago, The Sentinel Recovery Center had been built on the edge of The Preserve.  There were only three in the entire United States (the others were in New York and Kansas) and so it had brought some public attention to the town, as well as job opportunities.  The mayor and town council were all for it when they’d been approached by the Sentinel Institute, knowing how much it could bring to Beacon Hills.  There were also a lot of people unhappy about having Feral or Zoned-out Sentinels in their city limits, no matter that the purpose of the Recovery Center was to help and heal those same Sentinels.  Most considered it no better than Eichen House.  

“Is it really that bad?” Kira asked, having never met a Sentinel or Guide before, “It’s like a hospital isn’t it... Are they weird or something?”

“On their own, Sentinels are fine.  It’s just when they are on official business.”

Melissa added, “The Sentinels almost have carte blanch when it comes to policing themselves.  Even when we got a Sentinel related injury at the hospital, as soon as the S.I. guys came in, we got pushed aside and no longer in charge of care.”

It happened all over the United States.  There weren’t that many Sentinels and even fewer Guide and their abilities and skills were extremely valuable, so the government felt that the best ones to handle their affairs were other Sentinels and Guides.  The situation could definitely step on some toes when conflicts arose.  

“But nothing... supernatural has come up has it?” Scott asked hesitantly, “I mean, with Sentinels around...” his dark eyes trailed from the Sheriff to his mother.  The Sentinels would probably be able to figure out whether something was a ‘normal’ death or due to some supernatural creature or magic, right?  Scott wasn’t really sure how it all worked out with people who had heightened senses and what they could identify.  Granted, as a werewolf he had better hearing, eyesight and smell, but some Sentinels had heightened touch and taste as well - which, okay.  Weird?  But it would be a whole other problem if they started sensing shifters and wendigos, which would blow up into a whole other situation.

The Sheriff shook his head, “No, nothing outside of an Omega or two wandering through.  Certainly nothing we haven’t been able to handle.  We would have called you otherwise.  To be honest, I suspect the Recovery Center is the reason.  Having Sentinels wandering around might actually be a deterrent.”

Scott nodded but deep down he didn’t think that was the reason.  After all, having a whole family of famous Hunters like the Argents residing in Beacon Hills hadn’t stopped things from getting bloody.  

“Derek working as a consultant has helped a bit, as well as having Parrish on this side of the wall of normalcy.” the Sheriff sighed, “But nothing has gone on that you two need to worry about,” his blue eyes fell on the young couple, “So, don’t.  Just focus on your studies.”

“Ugh...” Scott groaned as he remembered, “After we get back tomorrow, I have a test to study for.”

Just then the Sheriff’s phone buzzed and he winced apologetically to Melissa.  The woman was too aware of his job to really be angry, so she gestured for him to pick up.  He slid his thumb across the screen and answered, “Stilinski.”

There was no privacy when you had a werewolf in the room and Scott had no intention of spying on anyone, but he could hear most of what was being said.  Apparently there had been a Feral Sentinel on a back route that had being reported by some residents and was now in the hold at the station.  The Sheriff sighed and nodded, “All right, I’m on my way.” he shut off his phone and looked up at the others, “I have to head in.  Sorry Melissa.”

“No problem,” she smiled softly, “Want me to pack up some food for you to go?”

“Don’t go to any trouble,” he smiled back and rose from the table.  The Sheriff faced Kira and Scott, “You two drive safe.  It’s been good to see you...”

“Bye!” Kira chirped, looking like she wanted to get up and at least give him a hug, but the man was already heading out the door to the cruiser parked on the street.  She pouted a bit, “That sucks that he has to go in.  Can’t they handle it without him?”

“He insists on handling all Sentinel business that comes through the station,” Melissa explained.

“Does... he talk about Stiles?” Scott asked, his voice soft, hesitant.  For him, it was the elephant in the room, but he didn’t dare bring it up if the Sheriff didn’t.

His mother shrugged, “Sometimes, but he was never the type to talk about his feelings.  Even after Claudia passed away.” Her eyes softened as she regarded her son.

Scott nodded slightly, “I really miss him,” he swallowed hard.

She reached over and wrapped an arm around her son’s shoulder, “We all do sweetie.”


	3. Blue Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew... Another chapter! 
> 
> A little more background information and setting up... Unbeta'd so if there are any mistakes, they are mine - let me know of any errors or anything. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy it. Going to do my best to keep going writing it!  
> Comments are always welcome!
> 
> (Chapter title from song of the same name by Eisley)
> 
> ___________________________________________________

Question 1: What’s the good thing about Monsters?

Answer: Killing them makes you a hero.

 

Question 2: What’s the bad thing about Sentinels running through the forest growling and trying to rip your throat out with blunt teeth?

Answer: Killing them makes you a murderer.

 

So what does that leave you with?  

It leaves you covered in dirt and leaves and wrestling in the woods with someone who should just have normal human strength but apparently got some weird burst of crazy Sentinel power.  It might not have been so bad except for the absolute pain and misery rolling off the guy like early morning fog.  

That and the screaming.  

The Sentinel hadn’t stopped screaming when he first laid eyes on Derek.

This wasn’t the first feral Sentinel Derek had come across since the Recovery Center had gone up - sadly it probably wouldn’t be the last.  So he knew the drill - knew what was going on with the guy and how he was suffering, trapped inside his own head with this senses blowing up like fireworks.  In Derek’s own mind, it was probably a lot like how he felt when the wolf’s bane poison had been running through his blood stream, amplified to 100.  Deaton had agreed that was probably the best comparison when they’d talked about it after the first feral Sentinel had wandered through Beacon Hills.  

The ferals didn’t mean any harm to anyone.  They just lost touch with who they were and where they were and with their senses flaring everything was a threat.  

Knowing all that though didn’t make dealing with it easier or more pleasant.

The Sentinel growled from beneath Derek when he managed to roll them and get on top, using his weight to pin the man down.  Numerous scratches, bites and bruises littered the werewolf’s body, but he wasn’t worried about all the little injuries that would heal quickly.  His hands scrambled to grasp at the Sentinel’s wrists, hoping to keep them down and at least stop from getting punched or scratched again, but the guy was fast, managing to land a hit to Derek’s chin.  His eyesight jarred for a moment and it gave the feral enough time to turn aside and get out from under where he’d been.  

Giving a tired roll of his eyes, Derek stumbled up to his feet and gave chase as the Sentinel started running.  Thankfully, the man didn’t have super speed and the werewolf had the advantage.  With a grunt Derek tackled the man to the ground from behind and then quickly sat on him, making sure the Sentinel got no leverage to buck him off or grab at him.  He planted his hand between the guy’s shoulder blades to keep him in place and then reached into the back pocket of his jeans for the pair of handcuffs the Sheriff pretended Derek didn’t have.  Legally, there was no reason that he should be cuffing the Sentinel - certainly not as a consultant to the Sheriff’s department - but no one had to know Derek was the one that had caught him.

When he had the Sentinel’s wrists safely locked in the metal bracelets, Derek curled his fingers in the the guy’s blonde hair to lift his head up, and then, with only a bit of remorse, he punched him dead in the face.  It had the desired effect of knocking the man out and leaving the forest in almost blissful silence.  Derek considered it a mercy punch.

Leaning back a little, he caught his breath - it didn’t take long thanks to his being a werewolf, but he just wanted a moment to recover before he made a phone call to Parrish for a pick up. 

When he felt a bit more himself, he pushed off, standing to looked about and make sure there was no one wandering around to cause any more trouble.  He probably should have thought of that before the fighting started, but he’d been a bit too preoccupied with the screaming and overwhelming sense pain.  The scent of the Sentinel’s misery had practically choked him.  Reaching back to his other pocket, he slid out his cell phone at the same time that he brushed off the errant leaves and dirt on his jeans.  Noticing the time, he frowned.  He’d have no time to sneak in a visit with Scott now.  The Alpha was only in town for a short time and was leaving in the morning.  He sighed and called the deputy.

“Hey Derek,” Jordan Parrish’s voice was expectant, “Did you find him?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “You can come and get him.”  When the calls had come into the station about a strange man wandering around, Parrish called Derek then picked him up and drove out to look into it.  The deputy had waited in his cruiser while Derek investigated, just in case it was something _not_ human.  Of course, as far as Derek was concerned, the Sentinels sat on the edge of human with their abilities.  

“All right,” the officer said, “How far in are you?”

“North of you... about half a mile.”

“On my way,” the phone disconnected and Derek slid it back into his pocket.  

Derek went and leaned against one of the trees and crossed his arms.  The other down side to this was that this was going to end up cutting the Sheriff’s dinner with Melissa, Scott and Kira short too.

 

**********************

 

“Want me to get you a coffee?” Parrish asked from where he was sitting at his desk, the paperwork spread out on the surface, while Derek leaned against it, eyes on the closed door of the Sheriff’s office.  

Without removing his gaze from the door Derek asked, “Is it from the break room?” 

“Um... yes?”

“Then no.” Derek could always claim his ‘werewolf’ senses were too sensitive for the strong coffee - Parrish couldn’t detect lies - but the truth was that stuff was like tar and he had no idea how any of the officers managed to choke it down.  

He heard a huff of a chuckle from the officer, “You know, you aren’t going to make them come out any sooner by staring at the door.”

“I’m listening in.” 

“Oh...  What are they saying?”

Derek couldn’t help himself and glared at Parrish over his shoulder.

The deputy put his hands up in surrender, “Right, I’ll just go get some coffee then.” 

While Parrish went to do that, Derek returned his attention to the Sheriff’s office.  The blinds had even been drawn closed so no one could peek in at the Sentinel Institute guys that were in there with Stilinski.  Of course that didn’t stop any of the other officers in the station from glancing repeatedly at the shut door.  

After they’d brought the feral Sentinel in and gotten him locked up in one of the cells, Parrish had called the Sheriff.  It was about fifteen minutes later that Stilinski had arrived at the station and placed a call to the Recovery Center to inform them of the situation, only to be told that a S.I. team was already on its way...which meant someone else at the station had called S.I. about the Sentinel since it hadn’t been Parrish or Derek.  It irritated him because Sheriff Stilinski had specifically told everyone that no one was to directly call S.I. unless he ordered them to do so, the man preferring to be their only point of contact with the police.  Someone had gone behind the Sheriff’s back and it wasn’t the first time.  It left Stilinski having to scramble a bit to avoid being blind-sided.  On top of that, having S.I. in the building put everyone on edge.  

Derek listened to the conversation going on in the office, his eyes lowered so he looked like he was just waiting for the Sheriff to come out.

 _“...Now, while we appreciated everything you’ve done--”_   The voice was only on the edge of polite.  From the pulsing of heartbeats, there were five people in the room, including Stilinski.  Derek had missed their arrival when he’d been in the bathroom washing up from the tussle in the woods.

 _“What we’ve done is clean up after you... Again.”_ That was the Sheriff.

A deep, patient sigh, _“Yes, as I was saying... While we do appreciate everything you and your officers have done in keeping this situation from becoming more complicated, we think it was unnecessary for there to be the amount of force used on Mr. Valentini.”_

 _“Complicated?”_ Derek worried for a moment about Stilinski’s blood pressure as he heard his heart rate pick up _, “Do you know what could have happened if there had been a jogger that came across Mr. Valentini?  There are running paths all near where he was raging around!  Or a family?  Children?  And you’re worried about a bruised jaw?”_

_“Mr. Stilinski--”_

_“Sheriff.”_

_“Pardon?”_

_“Sheriff Stilinski.”_

_“Yes... Sheriff Stilinski, I do understand.”_

_“See, I don’t think you do Mr. Ecks.  You only have to worry about your precious Sentinels, but I have to worry about a whole town!  It is my responsibility and that of the officers on the other side of that door, to keep the people of Beacon Hills safe.  And I can’t do that when there are crazed super humans running around wild!”_

_“This was a simple accident and I can assure you it was an isolated incident.”_

_“What about the last time?”_

_“That was not an escaped resident.”_

_“But my officers had to deal with it!_

Mr. Ecks grew offended from the sound of it, _“Its part of your job to--”_

_“Don’t start telling me what my job is.”_

_“You’re here to handle this sort of thing!”_

_“No,_ you’re _supposed to handle this sort of thing, but you aren’t!”_

_“Now Mr. Stilinski!”_

_“Sheriff Stilinski!”_

_“That isn’t important right now!”_

_“Like hell it isn’t!”_ And now both men were starting to yell.  Derek was ready to step in there, privacy be damned.

 _“Gentlemen.”_ A third person finally spoke up - a woman.  Her voice was even and rather pleasant - considering the circumstances, _“I think what Mr. Ecks is trying to say is that the S.I. is concerned about the treatment of Sentinels who aren’t in their right mind...  We are all aware that our presence here in Beacon Hills by some of the residents isn’t... welcoming.  We are just hoping that no one is taking out their opinions on Mr. Valentini’s face, Sheriff Stilinski.”_

 _“I can assure you, that none of my people would dare ever use excessive force.  I can personally speak for the men that brought Mr. Valentini in and I am sure they only did what was necessary to restrain the him.”_ Stilinski sounded calmer, his heartbeat going at a more respectable rate.

 _“I’m very relieved to hear that,”_ Mr. Ecks said stiffly, giving Derek the impression that the man was only partially placated but wasn’t going to push it.

“ _And_ ,” the woman continued, “ _I believe that what the Sheriff is trying to get across is that he is concerned about relations between the S.I. and the public of Beacon Hills Mr. Ecks.  And that he works extremely hard and his first priority is serving and protecting the residents of this town. In that vein, he would probably appreciate some leeway from the S.I. when he or his officers are forced to deal with situations like Mr. Valentini._ ” Derek smirked.  Whoever she was, she was deflating the tensions.

“ _Of course..._ ” Mr. Ecks conceded, “ _I assure you, the S.I. appreciates all your efforts and the courtesy you have extended to it and the Recovery Center._ ”

“ _Thank you,_ ” The Sheriff murmured.

There was the sound of shuffling, chairs moving, “ _Now... Perhaps it would be for the best if we collected Mr. Valentini from your cell?”_ Mr. Ecks was back to a ‘polite’ tone.

 _“Actually, I’d like to talk about setting up a better protocol for dealing with escaped patients from the Recovery Center.  As we both seem to agree that we want the citizens of Beacon Hills safe and want relations between the RC and town to remain positive.”_ Derek was sure he heard the whisper of sarcasm in there.

There was a long pause before Mr. Ecks spoke again _, “While I do agree that we should do so, I think its best if we got Mr. Valentini to the Recovery Center as soon as possible.  We can discuss protocols at a more opportune time.”_

Parrish walked up then, holding two paper cups of coffee to join Derek in leaning against his desk.  He handed one of them to the werewolf who absently took it,  “Did I miss anything?”

“Well--”

Just then the door opened and two Sentinels walked out, easily identified by the slim black suit jackets with  leather sleeves that most Sentinels wore.  They weren’t smiling or putting on any type of friendly expression on their face - unlike the shorter man with glasses and sandy blonde hair who had a fake smile.  Mr. Ecks perhaps?  The glasses suggested that he wasn’t a Sentinel, but you could never be sure. He might not have heightened eyesight but other heightened senses and he was wearing a black jacket like the others, though he could also be a Guide.  Few non-Guides or non-Sentinels worked in the S.I. or at the Recovery Center.  “The cell is this way,” and the voice was definitely that of the man they were referring to as Mr. Ecks.  

The last person was the woman and she was stepping out backwards as the Sheriff came out with her.  

“Sorry about all of this Sheriff Stilinski,” she was saying, “I know you and your men are doing your best.”

He sighed, “Don’t worry about it...” then Stilinski’s eyes flicked up at Derek, obviously sensing the werewolf’s stare.  

Feeling like he got caught doing something, Derek hastily took a gulp of his coffee and then immediately regretted it as the foul dark liquid went down his throat.  He coughed and looked down at what he was drinking in disgust.  Tar.  Goddammit.

By the time he was looking up again, the woman was pulling up what had originally appeared to be a scarf, but was really a hood attached to her black jacket, to cover her head.  She followed Mr. Ecks and the Sentinels down the hall to the jail cells, the Sheriff following behind them.  Derek felt a wave of frustration at missing what she looked like, though he caught some of her scent... It was weird.  There was no perfume or shampoo or soap scent like he normally found on people before gaining their actual body scent.  “She’s a Guide.”

“Hmmm?” Parrish asked, moving around to sit back down at his desk.

He flicked his chin towards the hallway the small group had gone down, “The woman with them.  She’s a Guide.  Her scent’s natural with no perfume or anything.”

“Is that important?” 

Derek shrugged, “Guides at the Recovery Center work with Sentinels who have screwed up senses so they don’t want to overpower them with any weird smells or scents that might set them off or make things worse.  They use unscented soaps and natural items to make sure they are as... bland as possible.”

The deputy nodded, pursing his lips before he said, “Makes sense.”  He looked over his shoulder before saying, “They always bring a Guide when they pick up a Sentinel.  At least one to help keep the guy calm.” pausing for only a moment, he leaned forward to whisper, “So what went on in there?”

“Sounded a lot like a bit of posturing mostly.  They were concerned about excessive force,” Derek kept his voice low.  Parrish and Stilinski were the only ones on the force that knew Derek was a werewolf and he wanted to keep it that way.  Sure, some of his abilities could get passed off as those of a Sentinel, but considering they weren’t universally loved even if they were acknowledged, Derek wasn’t too eager to be identified as one of them. “But what bothers me, is someone called the S.I. in before you called Stilinski.”

“Yeah,” the youthful features turned as he frowned, “Which means what?  We have a mole?” Parrish gazed around, keeping his movements casual.  He was all too painfully aware that some of his fellow officers could be paid off to commit murder if the price was right.  “What’s the point?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know what they could gain by undermining the Sheriff or going behind him to work with the S.I. office at the Center.”

Further conversation stopped as the group they were talking about trooped back from the cells.  Mr. Valentini, the feral Sentinel, was between the two Sentinels with Mr. Ecks leading the way towards the front doors.  The still hooded woman was walking behind them, her hand on Mr. Valentini’s back and he could hear her voice softly whispering words to him about being calm and that everything was fine.  It obviously worked from the half lidded gaze currently happening on the face of a man who hours before had been trying to claw Derek’s eyes out.  Derek himself felt the edges of calm, a soft fluffy blanket, from her tone, even from where he was.  Her scent was... pleasant...  Blinking hard he frowned to himself and refocused, seeing the Sheriff was walking behind the group at a more sedate pace.  When they were at the front desk he paused to watch them leave and as soon as the door shut, it felt like there was a collective exhale from the entire station.  

The Sheriff wiped his face and spun on his heel before marching back towards them, “Who the hell called them before I got here!” he growled.

 

*******************

 

Derek’s relationship with the Sheriff had changed over the years.  From being hunted by the older man to working with him... it had been a very strange journey.  Derek liked to think they might have managed to become friends of a sort, but even if they weren’t, there was definitely respect between them.  That respect he had for Sheriff Stilinski was a part of the reason he was pissed off about the ‘mole’ in the station.  He still couldn’t figure out an angle on it and that lead to him being frustrated.  

Knowing the other was in the same boat, Derek suggested they get a beer to relax and the Sheriff agreed.  Which is how they ended up at Ozzie’s which was a decent bar - meaning it was clean - with a karaoke night on Saturdays and was always good to the Beacon Hill’s police force.  It was quiet at the late hour, which was appreciated, because Derek didn’t feel like trying to shout a conversation.  They sat at the bar, taking one corner so they were catty-corner to each other instead sitting side by side.

Derek’s pale eyes took in the tired form of the older man and felt guilty.  The Sheriff had the look of a man carrying a lot of weight, but unable to unload it anywhere.  Usually, he bore it better, but after days like this, the cracks tended to show.  

“I’ll tell ya Derek,” Stilinski said, tapping the bottom of his beer bottle on the worn wooden bar top, “I really wanted to punch that Ecks guy right in the face.”

Derek gave a chuff of humor, “I don’t think anyone would have blamed you.  He sounded like a weasel.”

“So you _were_ listening in on all that?”

He nodded, seeing no point in denying it, “Most of it.”

“I know you and Parrish did the best you could to bring that Sentinel down quickly...” he frowned and shook his head, “It felt like he was looking for something to pin on us.  Some transgression.”

“But why?  Even if he did, what would happen?”

The Sheriff shrugged, “I might lose my job.  Maybe some others.  In this case Jordan.  But then a new Sheriff would be elected and new deputies.” he drank a swig of beer then added, “I don’t know the man well enough for him to have a personal vendetta against me.”

Derek grew quiet in thought, wanting to give the other some sort of answer to the situation.  Instead he tried to adjust the conversation, “I plan on talking to Deaton about what’s drawing the feral Sentinels here.” Mr. Valentini might have been an escaped patient of the Recovery Center, but others had wandered into Beacon Hills.  “It can’t be the Nemeton.”

“Why not?” Stilinski asked, “It is a beacon... right?”

“For the supernatural... Other werewolves and creatures.  Sentinels, even feral ones, are still humans.  They’re closer to drug addicts going through a bad trip than supernatural creatures.  They shouldn’t sense the Nemeton.  At least,” He shrugged, “That’s my understanding of it.”

“No, it sounds right,” the Sheriff conceded before he rubbed his forehead, “Damn Sentinels.”

Derek glanced over at him, but didn’t respond.  He suspected the comment was not addressed to the ones from today or in the Recovery Center.  “They really got to you?” 

“Me?” The blue eyes blinked, “Oh,” he must have seen the concern in Derek’s eyes, “I’m fine.” He waved off the look of worry, “Trust me, this stuff is a cake walk compared to what I had to deal with when Stiles was in high school.” A smile lit his features, but was brief, as if he wasn’t going to allow himself to take pleasure in any memory of the past.  

There was no helping the small smile on Derek’s lips though.  He dropped his head, keeping the soft grin to himself for the moment.  After a time he nodded saying, “Its almost a miracle they got through all that.”

“Yeah...” Stilinski agreed, though there was no hiding the shadow of bitterness in his tone.

“How is Scott?”

The Sheriff’s expression brightened to a degree, “Sounds like he’s doing well.  Handling his classes and being an ‘adult’.  He and Kira are still together and I’ll tell you, if he doesn’t end up marrying that girl, I may end up shooting him.” he smirked, “He plans on coming back to Beacon Hills after he gets his degree.”

“He’s mentioned that...” Derek’s eyes trailed over the older man’s expression, “You don’t believe him?”

“No, I believe him.  I just don’t know if that’s the best thing for him.”

“Scott’s an Alpha.  This is where his pack... was,” he wondered, not for the first time, if anyone else would return, “He feels a tie to it.”

“Yeah, but... I don’t know if its healthy for him to come back here.”

The werewolf’s brows furrowed, “Do you not want him to come back?”

“To be honest?” he met Derek’s eyes and the younger man nodded for the other to continue, “No. I don’t.” before the question of ‘why’ could be asked, the Sheriff continued, “Those kids finally got out of this place.  They moved on and away.  They got out.  They should stay the hell out and try to have normal lives.”

Derek nearly laughed, “Normal?  Scott’s a werewolf, Kira’s a kitsune...  Lydia’s a banshee.  I think normal isn’t in the cards for them.”

“But it should be!  They should all be able to have a chance to worry about the same stupid problems everyone else has... Like what’s for dinner, should they get a cat or a dog, and what schools to send their kids to.  Not whether some mouthless assassin is going to come and stab them in the chest with an axe!” he whispered the last sentence harshly.  

“But things aren’t the same as when they were in high school.”

“No, I suppose they aren’t.” he sighed again, getting lost in the his own thoughts for a while  

Derek watched him quietly and held back from asking the Sheriff how he was doing.  It itched in the back of his throat but he couldn’t form the question...  The truth was, he was too afraid of the answer.

“So,” Stilinski shifted a bit on the bar stool, “What about you?”

“You know already.”

“I know you spend your time at the station working, and I know you’re renovating that warehouse you live in.”

The younger man shrugged, “That’s pretty much it.”  Two years ago he had decided that he needed to do something with the building he had invested in or it wasn’t going to be much of a return.  The previous owners had already started converting the warehouse into lofts, but hadn’t finished since the market had bottomed out on real estate.  His own loft was the most finished and after Scott and the others left for college, he worked on it some more, making it more livable.  It was hard but it kept him busy and his mind focused.  When he felt finished enough (because he realized that he honestly would never feel like it was done), he started on one of the other spaces and kept going.  The plan was to eventually be able to rent out the lofts.  

“Son,” Stilinski’s voice was soft, “That’s work...  That’s not,” he searched for the right words, “A life.”

Derek shrugged, lowering his eyes.

Realizing what he said, the Sheriff leaned over and clasped Derek’s shoulder, “Ignore an old man...  I’m just tired, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.  Its been a long day.”

Before Derek could assure the older man that he hadn’t said anything wrong, one of the other patron’s of Ozzie’s walked up.  “Hey Sheriff...”

Stilinski looked over his shoulder and recognized him, “Hey Rufus, good to see you.” He turned around on his bar stool, setting the empty beer bottle on the bar top so he could extend his hand in greeting, “How are you?”

Rufus accepted it in a handshake, “Aw, you know.  Same old, same old... Just a few more creaks and aches, but the same.”

After a chuckle of understanding, the Sheriff said, “I hear ya.”

“So,” Rufus, “I, uh, heard there was a bit of a problem with some of those Sentinel guys today?”

Derek could see the Sheriff’s body stiffen and tension shoot through him, “Oh?” It was amazing how fast news spread through the town.

“Yeah, something about some crazed Sentinel running through the woods?”

Keeping a semi-pleasant smile on his face, the officer shrugged it off, “Nothing to worry about.  Everything was handled.”

Rufus didn’t seem very placated by that, “A lot of people put calls in about it.  I don’t know if that’s nothing to worry about.”

Keeping his calm demeanor, Stilinski tried to play it off, “You’re right, people did call, which is exactly what you should do when you see someone acting strangely.  Officers were sent out to investigate and the man was apprehended and brought down to the station.  The Sentinel Institute was called and they took him to the Recovery Center.  All very boring.” 

“And how many escapees of that Center does that make?”

“Rufus... don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”

“Sheriff, I know you have to play nice with them, but having these... Sentinels around and their Guides...  Crazy ones at that.  It doesn’t make me feel safe.  Doesn’t make my family feel safe.  These people have powers... They can listen in to your house and you’d never know--”

“You have nothing to fear.  They’re just people.  Normal people like you and me.”

“They aren’t normal Sheriff!” Rufus snapped, “They’re some sort of freaks of nature and they don’t belong here!”

Now Stilinski was standing up, “You need to calm down here Rufus... That kind of talk can get ugly real fast.  We don’t need people getting riled up against Sentinels...”

“Look, now I know after what happened to your boy--”

But whatever Rufus was going to say was cut off when he was grabbed by the collar by a very angry looking Sheriff.  Derek was up and off his stool, but he didn’t want to step in, not sure if he’d be helping or hurting the situation further.  Stilinski’s fist tightened its grip in the other man’s shirt and Derek was afraid he’d end up punching Rufus.  Everyone in the bar had gone quiet, watching the scene unfold, but no one made a move.  After a few tense heartbeats, the Sheriff’s fingers unfurled, releasing the man with a light push, his blue eyes glaring into the other’s darker ones, “Go home Rufus.” he ordered, his voice holding no leeway.

Getting the hint that he crossed the line, Rufus nodded and stumbled his way to the door, clearly shaken by the interaction.  The way the Sheriff’s heart was beating in his chest, Derek was sure the older man was shaken as well.

He placed a hand on Stilinski’s shoulder and quietly said, “I’ll drive you home...”

In the dark, the two men were silent as Derek drove down the familiar streets and roads of Beacon Hills.  It held a strange combination of annoyance and comfort that little would change in the town, no matter what happened in its history.  It was why things like the Hale House fire were still gossiped about.  To this day, Derek couldn’t walk into one of the stores without someone murmuring, _“He’s_ that _Derek Hale...”_  

It also meant that when the Sheriff went through town, the folk who had known the Stilinski family for years would watch him and then turn to each other and whisper, _“Did you hear what happened to his son?”_   The Sheriff may not have werewolf hearing, but Derek was pretty sure he was aware of them talking.  It was probably the same thing he and Stiles had to endure after Claudia had passed away...  When a person was no longer anything more than what had happened to them - A walking tragedy for others to measure their own life against and to, “ _Thank god,”_ they didn’t have to endure the same.

Derek wanted to offer words of comfort, but to bring it up would be to acknowledge it was happening and once they did, he knew it would become awkward.  He liked to think that they silently understood each other and offered each other support in their own ways.  Besides, talking was not his strong suit.  _That was always what Stiles did best._

He parked his car in front of the Stilinski house and said, “Listen if you need me to come in tomorrow...”

“Nah, I think we can put off going over old cases,” Most of Derek’s consulting consisted of reviewing old case files to see if the unsolved ones were actually supernatural in nature or not.  The Sheriff had started doing it on his own years before, which had lead to the discovery of Malia, but he hadn’t had time to continue, what with Agent McCall coming in and all the horrors of the Nogitsune happening.  “I’d like to try for a normal shift tomorrow.  But if anything comes up, I’ll call you.”

“All right... Have a good night...”

“You too son...” The Sheriff gave him a nod and then shifted out of the car and closed the door.  

Derek watched the man head up the driveway towards the dark house.  It bothered him that Stilinski spent so much time alone there...  He knew what it was like to return to an empty home.  How cold it could feel and how it made getting up in the morning harder and bothering to make meals seem meaningless.  If Stiles were there, he’d make sure his father was ready for work, bring him a healthy lunch - not caring about how much the older man grumbled - and cover him with a blanket if he fell asleep watching television.

But Stiles wasn’t going to come home and Derek was too aware of that fact.


	4. Pins and Needles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that... Another chapter!
> 
> Moving forward a bit here... With some hints of what happened in the past. And tying up some loose ends with some characters in the series (like Jackson and Isaac and why exactly Danny wasn't in season 4!).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading - I do hope you are enjoying it and want more. I know where I want to try to go with it... its always just getting there. Unbeta'd so, if there are mistakes they are mine! Please let me know if you catch anything - and if you think I should add any tags or anything.... Comments are welcome! Cause... I have like no idea how this is going.
> 
> (Chapter title from song of the same name by Mutemath)
> 
> _______________________________________________________

  **One Year Later**  

“Congratulations!” they cheer as one, glasses clinking together over the table, spilling a bit of beer and mixed drinks on the surface.  In between the smiles and laughter, they drink, eyes bright and cheeks pink.  It’s a Saturday night at Ozzie’s and they are celebrating graduating after weeks of parties and ceremonies across the country.  It feels big to all of them.  The terror and fear of what was next was being ignored in the face of having this moment together and sharing it. 

Lydia wiped the corner of her lips with her finger tip and set the martini glass, now empty of its Cosmopolitan on the table and said, “Next round is on me!”

Danny laughed, “You’d think you’d want to save money.  Considering this is only a rest stop before you go back to school.”

“Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, her red lips smirking, “You know money isn’t a problem with my Dad feeling guilty about leaving Mom and me in the lurch financially.  Besides,” she shrugged, “I got plenty of scholarships to get my bachelor’s.  He didn’t have to pay for that.”

“Ugh...” Scott groaned, “I’m going to be paying back student loans till I’m dead.”

“Don’t worry,” Kira said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and giving a squeeze, “You’ll be fine.  You’ll have a job right out of school and we can stay with your Mom to save money.  She already said that was okay.”

He winced, “Do you really want to do that after waiting for me to finish getting my degree?”

The young woman rolled her eyes, “Scott, I said I would before.  Yes, of course I will.” Then she gave him a smile that set his heart skipping.

“Oh my god,” Lydia groaned dramatically, “You two are adorably gross.”

“You’re just jealous,” Danny teased, nudging her in the shoulder with his.  

“Please... I have no time for anyone,” which was probably true.  Between a full course load at school and already working getting her science papers published, Lydia Martin didn’t have a lot of free time to socialize.  

Scott envied her brains.  Things that took forever for him seemed to come so easy to her...  even if he knew it wasn’t always easy for her.  More than a few times, he’d had frantic calls at strange hours because when Lydia got upset, her concept of different time zones apparently went out the window.  But the young woman needed to vent and verbally vomit whatever problem she was trying to work through and so turned to Scott who was always ready to sit and nod his head obediently - even though he had no idea what she was talking about.  Eventually she’d get the mental knot untied and calm down, thank him for listening, apologize when she realized what time it was and then log off skype or end the call.  Waking up groggy the next morning he’d slog through his classes and his job at the grocery store, but he wouldn’t trade it for anything.  It made him feel warm inside that she turned to him like that.  

He’d asked Derek about it one time during a phone call, wondering if it was because he was an Alpha.  Derek had assured him it was normal and part of it was his Alpha status and feeling like he was leading them, comforting them and keeping them safe in his own way.  Of course the man said that it was also just part of Scott’s personality.  Scott wasn’t sure he appreciated the term ‘Mother Hen’ being applied to him, but Derek insisted he meant it in a good way.

Liam whined slightly, “Can I please have a drink that’s not soda?”

“You, young man,” Danny said, pointing to the young werewolf, “Are underage.  And I will not be providing alcohol to a minor in a bar where the local police like to hang out.”

“Ugh!  You guys are no fun!”

“Careful Liam,” Lydia said as she slid out of the booth, “You don’t want to make your Alpha send you home early for bad behavior,” she ruffled his hair playfully before heading to the bar to place an order for the next round.  

“Seriously?”

Scott nodded, “You’re too young to drink,” Outside of being Liam’s Alpha, Scott felt responsible for the younger man.  Granted, with his werewolf metabolism, the alcohol wasn’t going to do a thing to Liam, but no one else would know that.  They’d only see an underage kid drinking illegally.  “Besides, its not as much fun when you really can’t get affected by it.”

Danny grinned, his dimples as charming as ever, “That sort of sucks for you guys.”

“Nah,” Kira chirped, “It actually helped!  In school, while everyone else was trying to get over hangovers, we were fine.  Besides, Scott won more than a few drinking contests.”

“Hey, you weren’t supposed to say anything!” Scott’s eyes were wide, “I’m trying to set a good example!” he leaned forward to look at Liam, “Don’t you pull anything like that.”

The youngest member of the pack rolled his eyes, “Yes sir...” 

Scott flopped back in his seat, “Terrible Alpha...”

As always, Kira was there to pick him back up.  She poked him in the side, saying, “Are not,” making him squirm before kissing him.  It was really hard to stay upset around her.

Liam rolled his eyes again before turning his attention back to Danny, “So, now that you graduated, what are you going to do?”  

Danny set his elbows on the table, crossing his arms to lean on them, “Well, I’ve already got some job offers which is awesome, but I think I’ve already made my choice of where I’m going to work.”

“Wow,” Scott said grinning, “Where?”

“Riot Games.  They’re--”

“I know who they are!  That’s awesome!” the young man didn’t have a better word to use, “Does that mean you’ll be able to get us some free games?”

The other shook his head, “I didn’t even start working there yet!” he chuckled, “Give me a month and we’ll see.”  

It was no surprise to Scott that Danny managed to get a job so fast.  He was really smart and computer savvy.  And of course there had been the surprise at learning that Danny was fully aware of werewolves and all the supernatural craziness in Beacon Hills.  

During senior year they had been trying to figure out where Lydia was as some Hunter had grabbed her from school.  He and Stiles were arguing about it when Danny shoved Scott’s shoulder and shouted, “You’re a werewolf dumb ass!  You can track her by smell!”  They were too concerned about Lydia to do anything about it then, but later on, they asked him how he knew.  Danny’s first response was a shrug like it was nothing, and saying, _“Its Beacon Hills.  There are ley lines running under here... And that always attracts the supernatural.  My Mom is psychic and she always said there was some sort of source here... like a well along the ley lines.  I’ve known about all this since I was little.”_ He added, “ _I did a paper on it... the ley lines follow the telluric currents under the town...”_ he frowned, _“I have no idea where that paper got to though.”_ Then he looked at Scott and crossed his arms, _“Besides, you guys are like, really loud when you talk about all this stuff.  Seriously.”_ After that, it was like Danny was part of the pack, hanging out with them more and getting involved in the supernatural business when necessary.  

Lydia returned and gracefully slid back into the booth, “Drinks are on the way.  What did I miss?” her green eyes flit over the others’ faces as she settled in.

“I just told them about the job at Riot Games,” Danny explained, “And Scott is already looking for swag.”

“What’s the point of knowing someone working for a game company if I can’t mooch?” he teased. “But seriously, you’ll be in Santa Monica, which is on this side of the country, so we’ll at least be able to see you from time to time.”

The waitress came by and handed out the ordered drinks from a tray then went to go back to the bar.  Scott lifted up his beer and asked, “So how about Jackson?  What’s he doing?”

“He really isn’t sure,” Danny shrugged before sipping his drink, “He thought about going pro in Lacrosse, but then realized it would be a lot of pressure and opted out.  He just wants to do something he can do without any pressure and I told him, good luck with that.  Its almost impossible not to have some stress...  I think the last I spoke to him, he was looking to see if he could get started at Davidson Consulting which is some company over there.  He should do well, considering how charismatic he can be when he puts his mind to it.”

Scott tried not to snort.  Jackson was a douche bag most of time in high school.  To be honest, he hadn’t been sad that Jackson had left after the whole Kanima incident, even if he did feel badly for him at the time.  Danny had kept in touch with him - they were best friends after all - and had gone over to France during Junior year to do a study abroad program.  During that time, he had even managed to get Isaac connected with Jackson, knowing they were both there and probably could use a friend.  Of course, that was Danny...  Isaac and Jackson would never be BFFs, but Scott knew they appreciated familiar faces.  Lydia had also kept in touch, but had made it clear to Jackson and everyone else, that she had no interest in getting back together with him.  

“Charismatic and now he speaks French,” Lydia smirked, “Double trouble.”

“Mr. ‘I’m everybody’s type’,” Danny laughed, “Of course, now he has to contend with Isaac Lahey of the glass sharp cheekbones and the cherubic features.”

Since Allison’s death, Isaac had decided to stay in Paris.  In his mind, there was nothing left for him in Beacon Hills.  His pack was gone, his family was in graves and Allison’s death left him feeling bereft.  Chris Argent had been kind enough to set him up in his residence in Paris where he and Allison had gone after her mother’s death.  Isaac started attending art school and was pursuing that, unsure yet where it would take him, but he was happy.  It seemed the life style there, suited him and he and Kira talked from time to time about art and techniques, getting into arguments over using a computer versus traditional mediums.

“To Jackson Whittemore and Isaac Lahey!” Scott chirped, lifting his beer up.  The others echoed him and clinked their glasses to his before taking a drink.

The conversation eased into general news and future plans.  Liam talked about his classes and playing lacrosse which lead to stories about high school games and Coach Finstock’s (who was still coaching lacrosse and teaching Economics at Beacon Hill High School) ‘coachisms’ as they called them.  Which lead to them repeating word for word, Coach’s championship pre-game speech which was basically the speech from “Independence Day”.  There was a lot of laughter and a few more drinks, less for Lydia and Danny who couldn’t hold their alcohol like Scott and Kira, as the night wore on.  

And through it all, they managed to avoid bringing up Stiles.

 

*************************

 

Scott stood in the doorway of a loft in the building with his mouth open in sort of shock.

It was a mess.

The dust was heavy in the air and there was a thin layer of pale sooty dust on everything.  There was a half wall barely left standing and the debris of it was scattered all over the place, like someone had smashed through it.  And then Derek was stepping out carrying a sledge hammer in his gloved hands and Scott figured that his thoughts were pretty accurate as to what had happened.  The man was covered in cement dust, giving him, his wife beater, jeans and work boots, a sort of grey hue.  Derek slid the safety goggles up and blinked, “Scott,” His mouth parted into a grin and Scott would have been surprised if he hadn’t gotten used to the former Alpha’s less aggressive demeanor in the last few years.  

“Hey Derek!” Carefully, he walked further in, stepping over small piles of bricks, “Wow... I mean...” he gestured to the destruction around him, chuckling.

The smile was still there, though maybe a bit self depreciating, “Yeah... Doesn’t look to good, but trust me.  It will when I’m done.” he looked around the space, as if seeing what it was going to look like then held his hand out in greeting.  Then realizing he had a work glove on, Derek quickly yanked it off and went to clasp Scott’s hand, “Its good to see you.”

“Same,” the younger man grinned, “Sorry you couldn’t make it to the graduation,” 

“I would have been there if they hadn’t screwed up the wood order.  I had to be here to accept it or they would have sent it back and there wasn’t any more left so someone else would have gotten it--”

“Dude,” Scott said, interrupting him, “Its fine.  Really.” And it was, “It wasn’t a big deal.  I mean, I still have to go back so you can try again when I get my degree.”

Derek huffed, “Can’t believe you’re going for a degree.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I am a very good student.”

The older man lifted one of his dark brows in silent judgement.

“Okay, maybe in high school that might not have been true, but there were extenuating circumstances. And look,” he tilted his chin and spread his hands out, “I even used a good SAT word in that sentence...  Extenuating...  To make an offense seem less serious or more forgivable.”

At that, Derek did chuckle, “Come on, I’ll show you one of the finished lofts.” he gestured for the Alpha to follow him out.  They walked down the hall and the older man slid open the metal door to reveal a large space with smooth dark hardwood floors.  Derek flicked a switch on the side near the entry and the lights all came on.  The walls were still brick, but seemed less cold with the warm track and cable lighting systems through out.  Across was a set of large windows, cleaned and allowing the view of the evening sky to come through.  The kitchen was an open model with a large island with a sink in it and stainless steel appliances, farmhouse light fixtures and lighting under the cabinets.  Without furniture, it was sparse looking but the potential for a really nice place was visible.  The ceiling was high and a set of metal stairs lead up to another level which had a simple rail setting on a loft overhang so there was another room up there.  “There’s a bathroom up there too,” Derek said when he saw Scott looking up, “I figure its a good place for a bedroom or an office for whoever would want to live here.”

“Wow... Its...  Its really nice Derek.” Scott was sort of blown away.  He knew Derek was renovating and Melissa had mentioned that it looked good, but he hadn’t been able to get to the building on his previous visits home.

Derek smiled, pleased with the Alpha’s reaction, “I just started the other loft...  Gotta tear it down to build it up.” he sighed, “This one was sort of a test run.” 

“Not your loft?”

“Nah... that happened slowly over time.” Derek shrugged, “I wanted a basic floor plan to work with and my loft is nearly the whole top floor.  I was thinking of maybe expanding this one, but I’m not sure.  Depends on what the new owners might want.”

“This is really amazing...  You’ll rent these spaces out fast.”

He nodded and gestured for Scott to follow him out.  Derek shut the lights off and shut the door before leading them up to his own space.  To say it had changed since Scott had been in high school would be an understatement.  Most of the floor was the same dark hardwood that he saw upstairs, with large carpets lay out on top of it.  There was wire lighting and recessed lighting through out, making it warmer and brighter than it used to be.  Like downstairs, the windows were clean, allowing a view, though there was a long set of dark curtains hanging on either side.  A kitchen was set on the left hand side, stainless steel appliances and black granite countertops, with modern cherrywood cabinets.  In front of that was that table that Scott remembered, but now there were chairs around it, making it a dining room table.  The spiral stairs were still there, leading up to more rooms, but Scott wasn’t going to go snooping up there.

On the right, the hole in the wall was gone, broken open and revealing more space, where a sturdy and large table was set up and a desk which Scott figured was Derek’s work area since he could see some blueprints spread out and a bunch of notebooks and flooring samples.  In the main center area beneath the sky light, was a leather couch and a big chest that was serving as a coffee table.  Across from it was an low entertainment center table with an actual flat screen television on top of it.  There were also two comfortable chairs on either side of the couch.  There were book shelves along left wall and right wall and there were books on them, but also a few framed pictures.  To the right of the large window, the bed was still there, but it looked more permanent now, with light fixtures set on either side and night stands.

Everything seemed more permanent and less... moveable.  It was nice.  “It... looks great Derek!”

Derek chuckled, probably sensing Scott’s surprise.  “Certainly beats the train station.”  He walked into the kitchen and washed his hands, doing his best to clean off his arms and offered Scott a seat at the large kitchen island which had a set of four cushioned stools.  After the young man sat down, he asked, “Get you something to drink?”

“Uh... yeah... Water’s fine.”

After tossing a water bottle he retrieved from the refrigerator, which Scott easily caught, Derek took one for himself then leaned against the counter.  “So, Deaton have you working at the clinic yet?”

“Not yet.  I start in a week though.” he sighed, “I wanted to have a break after school.” He broke open the seal on his bottle and took a swig of the cool water, “It’ll be interesting to see how to apply what I’ve learned in school to the actual job.”  he tilted his head, “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’ve been up to.”

Derek reached up and brushed his hair, dust slowly fell out of it to the floor and he frowned at it slightly before saying, “Well, I wish I could spend more time here working on the lofts, but there’s been some problems with the RC, so I’m at the station or helping out with that.”

“Yeah, the Sheriff mentioned that.”

“We’ve had a few more Sentinel issues.  Escapes from the center...  And there are more people voicing their discomfort about having a Recovery Center here.”

“Does this happen at the other two Recovery Centers?”  Scott asked, confused.  

The one in Kansas is far enough away from any residents that I guess it never comes up if there are issues.  And in New York... Well, they don’t say anything, but I got the sense from the Sheriff that they might have been hiding it.  But its New York.  Another stranger person wandering the streets could easily go unnoticed.”

Scott frowned as he looked over the dark surface of the counter, “It seems strange that this is happening now.  I mean... was this an issue before the RC opened here?”

“I don’t know, but that’s something to check out.  Unfortunately, getting information from the S.I. is pretty much like pulling teeth.  I’ll mention it to Stilinski... maybe the local law enforcement in those areas would be more willing to talk.”  He broke open the seal of the cap and took a long few gulps of water.

After a small time of silence, Scott sighed and said, “Speaking of Stilinski... I’ve... been wanting to talk to you.”  Derek set the bottle down on the counter, his fingers still wrapped around it as his brow’s furrowed.  The tilt of his head was like a go ahead to Scott.  “Did... Did something happen between you and Stiles?” The Alpha’s dark eyes rose to meet the pale hazel eyes of the Beta’s.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked, tension clear in the set of his shoulders, which told Scott that there had been _something_.

“Did something happen the last time Stiles came home his sophomore year?  He went back to Berkley early during the winter break with practically no explanation and never came back to Beacon Hills to visit.”

“Why do you think I had anything to do with it?”

“I don’t know.  That’s why I’m asking.  I mean, I know the fire at the distillery freaked everyone out, but we’ve been through worse.  It wasn’t enough to make Stiles stop visiting.” Scott’s blunt fingernail worried at the water bottle label.  

“But I was?” Derek frowned.

“Derek,” Scott sighed, “I’m just asking...  You know.  You have to know how he felt about you.”

The man sighed and turned his head away, his eyes growing distant, “Yeah.  I know.”

“So, did something happen?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Nothing at all?” Scott frowned, hearing the slight uptick in Derek’s heartbeat.

Derek growled, “Nothing I’m going to talk about with you Scott!”

“So something did happen!  What did you do Derek?”  Now Scott was getting up from the stool.

“I’m not discussing this with you!” the older man glared at him, “What happened was between me and Stiles.”

Scott slammed the counter top with his fist, crushing the bottle in his hand and forcing it to explode water all over his arm, the counter and the floor.  The young man ignored it as his eyes shifted to Alpha red, “The hell it is Derek!  That’s my best friend!”

“Then you should have asked him about it!” snarled back, his own eyes turning bright blue in response.

“I did ask him!” Scott was shouting, coming around the island to where Derek was standing, “I asked him all the time, but he always had some bullshit reason, like work or school!”

Derek didn’t back down, “Then take the hint Scott!  If he wanted you to know, he would have told you!”

“Did you do something to him?  Did you threaten him or something?  I swear to god Derek--” 

“Is that what you think?  I’d threaten him?”

Scott scoffed, “You did it all the time!”

“Oh my god!” He threw his water bottle into the wall, where it cracked, sending a burst of what was left of the water, shooting out, “How long am I going to be apologizing for that!  Do I get to remind you that you accused me murder?  That I was a wanted man because of you?  I still have a god damn police record!”

“That was a mistake!” Scott shouted, feeling like this was a conversation they had before...  Like they were repeating history and falling into some old pattern that he thought they had stepped out of by now.  He took a deep breath and stepped back, letting his eyes bleed out the red to return to the dark brown he was born with.  “Derek,” he said softly, “I just want to know what happened.”

Sensing the energy dying down, the aggression easing out between them, Derek’s eyes shifted from blue to hazel again and his body relaxed.  He looked over Scott, and the young man tried to put as much earnest desire for the truth in his gaze.  The older man rested back against the counter and sighed, “What happened is between me and Stiles... like I said,” before Scott could say anything, Derek added, “But... what happened... What I did was for the best.  Was for him.  I just wanted him to be happy and that wasn’t going to happen with me.”

“You broke his heart, didn’t you.” 

It wasn’t a question.

Derek didn’t answer but his expression, pained, eyes on the floor, was confirmation enough.  

“Thanks for telling me,” Scott said softly and he meant it.  The older, more sensible part of him was telling him that Derek wasn’t someone who had a good past history with his love life and probably wasn’t the best choice for a relationship.  Maybe Derek knew that and was trying to save his best friend from being hurt, and unintentionally hurt him in the process.  But there was still the other part of him that wanted to punch Derek in the face for his best friend’s honor.  He was pissed off at Derek for hurting Stiles that way - Hurt Stiles so much that he wouldn’t return to Beacon Hills.  

“Scott...”

The young man shook his head, “I really should go.  I think I need to go.” He turned and headed towards the loft door, telling himself not to look back because he was pretty sure of what he’d see.  Except when he got to the sliding door, he did glance back and he’d been right.  Derek’s back was curled forward, hands gripping the counter, his head down with more regret to add to the pile of regrets he carried.  Softly, Scott said, “I just need time Derek,” knowing the werewolf would hear him, “We’re...  I’m still your friend.”  Then he was leaving, heading down to his car to drive home where Kira and her kind words and bright spirit would cheer him up.

 

*************************

**One week later**

“You’ve been quiet for the last few days Scott,” Alan Deaton’s voice was even and calm as it usually was as the man leaned over to examine an older beagle’s eyes with an ophthalmoscope.  The dog didn’t seem to mind the small light shining in its eye, but then, it had been pretty laid back about everything.  Scott was stroking its back, the rhythm of it and the feel of the smooth fur was soothing.  When he straightened up he had a slight smile on his lips, “I would have thought a couple of week or so off from school would have been enough.”

“Oh,” Scott shook his head, “No.  I mean, no it was fine.  I had enough time off,” he stammered, “Sorry.” 

Deaton stroked the beagle’s head, “Something on your mind?”

The young man sighed deeply, “Just... some things I found out after I got home.”

This made the vet tilt his head, concern knitting his brow, “Anything you want to talk about?”

He shook his head.  There was no way Scott was going to discuss Stiles and Derek with his boss.  He wanted to talk to somebody about it, but it wasn’t his place to do it.  Even though he had desperately wanted to talk to Kira about it when he’d gone home from Derek’s last week.  The best he could do was give some roundabout explanation that she did her best to follow, but it ended up being more confusing than helpful.  And Kira, bless her, just said that she’d be there for him.  “Just a situation from years ago.  Nothing I can really do anything about though.”

“Ah, well...  The past is pretty much set in stone,” Deaton nodded, setting the instrument he used on a table.  He picked up an otoscope and flipped one of the long floppy ears of the beagle over so he could gently set the more pointed end in to examine the dog’s ears, “But it can be hard not to turn those stones over.”

Scott snorted, “Yeah...” 

Deaton checked the other ear and then asked, “Is that all that’s bothering you?”

After a moment of thinking about it, Scott answered, “No, not really.  To be honest, I’m a bit concerned.”

“About?” 

“Well, that its so... quiet here?”

After setting the otoscope down, he removed  his plastic gloves, “I’m guessing you aren’t referring to the Animal Clinic.”

“I keep waiting for a phone call or some emergency to pop up, but nothing happens.  Have things really quieted down that much?”

“For the most part, yes.  Granted, after you and the others left for school, there was some clean up that required the Sheriff, Deputy Parrish and Derek to take a hand in things, but they were taken care of.  I’ve done my best to make sure there are wards placed around town to alert us to any dangers so we don’t have any unpleasant surprises.  The Nemeton is still... active.  So I don’t doubt that things are being drawn to it and will continue to be so till it is set back to slumbering like it was before.”

“But if they’re being drawn into it, why haven’t we noticed?” Scott asked, “Is it things like that Wendigo family that was like, doing things in their house that no one knew about?”

“That I don’t know.  Trust me, it is something we’ve had a few discussions about.  Derek does check the Preserve to make sure there is nothing hiding in there, waiting to strike and the Sheriff keeps an eye out for any unusual deaths or disappearances.  But other than that, there isn’t much we can do.  I can assure you Scott, we are being vigilant.”

“I’m not accusing you guys of not doing your job,” Scott quickly said, glad that Deaton had taken on his more Emissary like role and had become more of a protector of Beacon Hills than just a witness to what was going on.  Till Scott could come back and take on his Alpha mantle more properly he trusted the adults of their small group to keep things safe till then, “Its just... I’m not used to this.  It makes me nervous that its so quiet.”

Deaton nodded in understanding, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop?”  Scott nodded with a self-depreciating smile.  “Well, that’s perfectly normal to be honest.  Considering how things developed after you were bitten, it would be foolish to relax, but don’t go looking for trouble.  Life tends to fulfill our expectations... Just not in ways we always like.”

“Is that sort of like saying be careful what you wish for?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, trust me.  I do not wish for problems!” Scott ruffled the beagle’s ears, “Right Brewster?”  The dog lifted its soulful brown eyes towards him and licked at his face.  “Bleh!” he squeezed his eyes shut and playfully made a face.

The older man was smiling softly, before turning to put some things away, “I can tell you that things in town haven’t been quiet, but it isn’t from the supernatural element.”

Scott stroked the beagle’s head, “You mean the Sentinels?”

Deaton nodded, “There’s been a lot of unrest since the Center went up.  There is a high percentage of townsfolk who have been more than happy with it coming here.  There were some jobs and an influx of new people meant more money for businesses.  Plus very good PR.  But there are enough townsfolk who don’t trust the Sentinels or even the Guides.”  He sighed and crossed his arms as he gazed sadly at Scott, “People can be so afraid of what they don’t understand...”

“From the sound of it though, shouldn’t they be?  I mean, we’re talking about superhumans.”

“Scott, you’re a werewolf.  Shouldn’t they be scared of you?”

Realizing what he said, he blushed slightly, “But I wouldn’t hurt anyone!  I mean, I’m not out there killing anyone!”

“It doesn’t have to be about killing,” he looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “What do you remember about the McCarthy hearings?”

“Um,” Scott frowned as he tried to pull it up from his memories, “That was... when they were doing those trials because of Communism?”

Obviously he was close enough because Deaton said, “During the 1950’s there was a scare about Communism in the United States.  There was fear that they’d somehow take over and couldn’t be trusted.  The Government investigated millions of U.S. citizens, asking what books or magazines they read, what unions they belonged to and whether or not they went to church.  Many creative people, like actors and writers were blacklisted because of alleged political beliefs.  Teachers and lawyers and others lost jobs for the same reason.  Many states had employees take loyalty oaths and books that were considered too close to Communism were banned, like Robin Hood and The Grapes of Wrath,”  Scott nodded, following along, “One of the worst things was that it made people paranoid.  They couldn’t trust their neighbor, their friends or their coworkers... Sometimes even their own family members.  Anyone could be a Communist and you never knew... They were just regular, normal human beings.  The problem was they looked just like everyone else.” Deaton gazed expectantly at the younger man.

“So... you’re saying people are scared of Sentinels because... they could be dangerous and you can’t tell if one is right next to you.”

“Right... And worse, a Sentinel can spy on you, use their abilities to find out information about you or harm you and you’d never know.”

“But, they do so much good, I mean, we all know about that guy up in Cascade...”

“That’s why most people aren’t scared of them,” Deaton agreed, “But not everyone thinks like that.  They think all Sentinels are basically superhumans waiting to take over the world.  They don’t understand that there are surprisingly few Sentinels who have all five senses heightened and there are tons of people who have only one enhanced sense that aren’t Sentinels.  But logic usually doesn’t come into play when there is fear and paranoia.”

Scott nodded thoughtfully.  He was always afraid when he revealed the truth about himself to people.  The reactions were usually pretty bad at first, but so far, it had been with people who knew him and cared about him.  Eventually, they realized that he was still just Scott... no matter that he was a werewolf.  But if someone didn’t know him, he could see how they’d easily be afraid of someone with super strength, and speed, along with sharp claws and teeth.  He never told anyone about it, but when the Benefactor had been sending hit men, Scott had nearly lost it during a battle to protect Satomi’s surviving pack members, nearly killing one of the bounty hunters... And Scott and scared himself with the monster he could be.  There was no denying it to himself that he was thankful that no one had seen him at that moment.

“I do have a theory as to why we haven’t had much in the way of supernatural creatures coming in.  At least not like when the Nemeton was first awoken.”  Deaton’s voice pulled Scott out of his reverie.

“Yeah?”

The veterinarian nodded, “The Recovery Center.”

“You think there’s something going on there?”

“I think the Sentinels themselves are deterring anyone from causing trouble here.  Most of the creatures we’ve dealt with are sentient and relied on staying hidden in plain sight.  But having people that can smell you or hear you?  Would you risk it?”

“Probably not.”

“And there is a simpler reason too.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

Scott’s head jerked back slightly, “Me?”

Deaton smiled softly, “Scott, you’re a True Alpha.  On top of that, you’ve lead a group that has either dispatched or stopped any threat that has come to Beacon Hills.  I believe you’ve built up quite the reputation.”

“Really?”

“Well,” the man chuckled, “They don’t know you like I do.  But yes, really.  Before, the Hale family reputation kept the territory safe...  Simply by their name after years of maintaining their protection.” There was a shadow of sadness in Deaton’s words, then he added, “Now, its your name.”

To say Scott was surprised and a little blown away by the information was an understatement.  After all, he hadn’t done anything in pursuit of a reputation.  He was just trying to keep his family and loved ones safe.  Through that, he had gotten rid of dangers that threatened Beacon Hills itself.  Still, it made him smile and feel proud... and also a little terrified.  “How am I supposed to keep up that reputation?  What if I can’t?”

“You’ll do what you’ve always done...  You’ll do your best,” the Emissary assured, “Besides, you have allies now.”

“I do?”

“Satomi and her pack are still around Scott and they’ve gained a few more members, but she will fall under your leadership if ever you need her.  There are supernatural beings here, but they aren’t causing harm.  Some are here because they know they’ll be safe.”

That offered a sense of relief to the young man, “That’s good to know because I still have to finish school.”

Deaton nodded, “Now, if you will be so kind as to take Brewster to wait in the kennels for Mrs. Lanz to come pick him up?” 

Scott grinned and nodded before hefting the large beagle up off the table, waking it up from the nap it had fallen into.  It gave a slight ‘Baroo” sound of a bark in surprise but calmed in the werewolf’s arms as he lifted it then set him down.  Brewster happily followed Scott out of the examination room, leaving Deaton to finish cleaning up and putting things away to get ready for the next appointment.

Just finishing up settling Brewster, Scott sensed something different nearby.  He heard the front door open, the little bell ringing gently over it, and then footsteps of someone entering the waiting room area.  Curious, he headed up to the front and saw a woman standing at the counter, a hood covering her head and wearing a black jacket.  “Hello?” he asked, stepping up to the counter to meet her across it.  

Her face was partly hidden in shadows, but he could clearly see her nose and mouth, the latter pulled up into a pleasant smile, “Hello, I’m here to see Dr. Deaton.”

“Do you have an appointment?” Scott’s brows furrowed slightly, noticing there was no animal with the young woman.

“Oh,” She shook her head, “No, I don’t.  I’m hoping I could just speak to him for a moment.”

“Well...” he frowned a bit, glancing towards the back door, “Maybe I can help you?”

“To be honest, it wasn’t really about a pet...” she appeared a little unsettled.

“Scott?” Deaton walked out from the back rooms, his dark eyes flicking back and forth between the woman and the young man.

“This uh... woman wants to talk to you?” 

The Emissary paused near the back door, gazing at the stranger for a moment or two before he said, “There are no Sentinels here.”

With a smile, she nodded and lifted her hands up to lower the hood from her head, revealing that she was, in fact, a young woman, probably a little older than him.  “Dr. Deaton I presume?” She brushed some of her dark hair back from her face.

“Uh.. “ Scott frowned, still confused.

Noticing, the Emissary walked up beside the younger man, “She’s a Guide, Scott... an unbonded one.  They wear hoods to avoid eye contact with unbonded Sentinels till they can meet properly.” he explained, “They may not be the true bonded pair, but Sentinels can get aggressive in their need for a Guide.”

“It makes it sound like Sentinels will cling to Guides like koalas,” she said, chuckling, “The hood keeps us more anonymous.  If its truly a bonded pair, the hood won’t do any good.  We’ll connect and know each other no matter what.”

“But... how can you tell she’s an unbonded Guide?”

“She’s not wearing the red string bracelet bonded pairs wear.”

The young woman lifted her wrists, showing the long tight sleeves of the shirt under the jacket, but no red string, “You know a lot about Sentinels and Guides,” she noted.

“I try,” He extended his hand towards her, “Miss...?”

“Miss Nolan,” she said, taking his hand to shake it, “But you can just call me Samantha... And I have some questions about the Nemeton.”

 


	5. Graveyard Whistling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a bit longer to get to this chapter than the last few. I sort of wrote myself into a corner and had to debate where to go from there since I'm trying to space out things correctly. I think I got it. 
> 
> This is Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. Please let me know if you find anything that needs correcting.
> 
> Comments would be lovely, since I'm sort of working in a vacuum here with no idea how its reading to anyone else. Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> (Chapter title taken from a song of the same name by Nothing But Thieves)
> 
> P.S. Do you guys want links to the songs I mention in these chapter titles?
> 
> ________________________________________________________________________

**Three Years Ago**

Derek pulled into the parking area outside of his building and turned off the engine.  Winter break had started which meant the pack would be returning to Beacon Hills for the holiday, and he decided to do some grocery shopping in preparation. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen anyone - he kept an eye on Liam, making sure he got through his full moons - and Stiles came back fairly often from Berkley to visit his Dad on weekends.  Stiles insisted he wasn’t homesick but rather, coming back to presumably check in to make sure his Dad was sticking to his diet.  Derek didn’t mind it.  In fact, he enjoyed the weekend visits and the dinners at the Stilinski home that usually happened during those times.  Scott came back with Kira to see his Mom, but also to check and see that things in Beacon Hills were still peaceful.  All of the pack were going on their second year of college and doing so without the heavy chains of the past violence still tied to them - they were adjusting to this new reality, the freedom they now could have away from Beacon Hills.  

Lydia and Danny were going to be back in a few days and Kira mentioned Isaac might fly back from Paris - though that wasn’t set in stone yet.  While pondering on whether or not to call Cora to see if she would come for a visit, he stepped out of his vehicle and turned back in to reach over to grab the two bags on the passenger seat.  Before he clutched the handles, he paused.  The sensation of something being very wrong slid up his back.  Releasing his hold on the groceries he straightened and put his back to the side of his SUV to look around at the lot around him, cast in the blue light of night.  There wasn’t anyone or anything visible, but he could feel it, like fingers trailing up the back of his neck.

Then the feeling of something connecting, locking into place...  a sickening sensation.  

Glancing to the ground he saw it now... a line of ash, circling where he usually parked his SUV.  Someone had completed the circle and he was trapped in it.  Derek looked up in time to see men step out of shadows, the silhouettes of guns and rifles with them before they hit the circle of light that shown down from the lamp on the building.  

It was Hunters.  

Derek turned, his intention to get right back into his vehicle and drive the hell out of there - the wheels would break the circle well enough for him to get away.  Gun fire exploding around him sent him ducking down instead.  He heard the sound of bullets piercing the metal above his head - all around him, pops telling him the wheels were punctured and flattening, the shattering of windows sending glass raining onto him.  Derek waited for the moment one of the small projectiles would tear into him, the anticipation of the pain tensing his body, but they never came.

As immediately as it started, it ended, leaving a weighted silence.  

Confused and catching his breath, Derek lowered his arms to glare at the surrounding Hunters who all shared smug expressions outside the circle of ash.  Their weapons were pointed to the ground again, not at him.  A glance back at his vehicle told him it would be useless to drive now, leaving him with no where to go.  If he survived this, he’d definitely have to get a new car...  Absently, his brain brought up the question of whether his insurance would cover extensive gun fire.

Turning his attention back to the Hunters he clenched his teeth.  What were they waiting for?  He was clearly trapped.  They could take him down with a single wolf’s bane laced bullet.  Hell, even enough gun fire that was more than he could heal could kill him.  Rising to his feet he snarled, “What do you want?  If you’re here to kill me, then do it already!”  

 Scott would find him and his body.  He’d see the bullets and know it was hunters, then he’d most likely  call Chris and they’d deal with these bastards.  The pack was smart and had handled worse things.  And Derek was not afraid to die...  A part of him was always waiting for it... maybe looking forward to it.

“Ah Derek...  So eager to die are you?”

The voice was achingly and painfully familiar, making his stomach drop and his mouth go dry.  His eyes darted among the Hunters, to see if what he was afraid of was true, till they landed on the shape of a man that Derek had never wanted to see again.  Even as the bastard walked into the light, Derek couldn’t help the widening of his eyes and the gasp that escaped his lips - like some part of him was convinced his senses had been lying, “Gerard...”

The old man smiled like a grandfather watching his grandchildren opening presents on Christmas morning, “You don’t seem terribly happy to see me Derek.”

“You’re... supposed to be dead.” 

Gerard Argent chuckled, “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated...”

Derek frowned, “That’s a misquote of Mark Twain...” his body went on alert, his teeth itching and his fingertips tingling as he tried to spot a way out of the situation.  If Gerard was here and alive, it would mean definite trouble for Scott and the others.  How long had he been in Beacon Hills, planning and plotting before making this move now?

Argent tilted his head and nodded, mouth pulling at the corners before he strolled along the edge of the mountain ash ring, “And here I thought you were just a stupid beast...”

“And here _I_ thought you were rotting away from the inside...”  Except there were no signs of the poison in Gerard’s body. None of the black bile was leaking from his nose or mouth like it had been when he’d last seen him.  

“I got better.” 

“Chris said--”

A sneer curved the old man’s lips, “That imbecile knows what I want him to know!  It was easy enough to have my ‘care’ facility inform him that I died and fool him into thinking that.  As much as he protests the fact, I am still his father and his sentimentality prevented him from investigating too much further into my death after all my suffering.” he smirked, “I believe he said something about me finally being at rest.”

“But...” He got no scent of illness from Gerard... no trace of the cancer or the remains of the wolf’s bane. 

“I’m feeling much better now, no thanks to McCall,” bitterness laced his tone, “Actually, its you I should be thanking Derek, because it was your bite that did eventually cure me,” he smiled and Derek thought he was going to be sick when he saw the man’s eyes shift from brown to the bright blue of a werewolf.  The Bite had taken in the end.

Gerard continued, “So I really do owe you a debt of gratitude about the whole thing, though I am sorry you are no longer an Alpha.  That would have made this a lot easier.  Instead, I’ll just have to kill McCall and deal with the rest of his little pack!” he spit the last word out like it was poison.

“You won’t touch them!” Derek roared, fear for the others making him shift, head snapping up as his teeth sharpened and claws flicked from the tips of his fingers. He couldn’t let Gerard harm them.  

Ignoring Derek’s outburst, the old man continued “And I’ll finish what my daughter started Hale!” Gerard snarled, “You’ll finally pay for your crimes against my family.”  He looked to the other Hunters, “Do it...”

Small canisters were rolled into the ring of mountain ash and Derek had a second to notice them starting to smoke before they popped open and a purple hued cloud exploded out of them.  Tilting his head back, Derek could only hope that Scott was in town or one of the others would hear as he let out a desperate roaring howl that echoed through the clear night air.  Then he was inhaling the smoke that was engulfing him. Wolf’s bane clogged his lungs.  The edges of Derek’s awareness immediately began to grow fuzzy, his body falling back against the side of his vehicle, having a second to have something solid against him.  He tried to rally up, pushing from the SUV, but there was no strength in his limbs.  Sliding down the car, his vision faded as his body succumbed to the poison.  

 

The world came back to him in pieces.

Cold cement under his cheek.  Burning at his wrists.  Old, stale air... distantly familiar.  Pounding behind his eyes, throbbing through his head.  Nausea. Heartbeats.  Humans.  Hunters.  Werewolf.  Gerard.

Derek’s eyes opened with a start then immediately winced closed under the bright overhead lights.

He tried to bring his hand up to cover his eyes, but the movement was stopped by heavy metal shackles.  Narrowing his eyes open, he saw his wrists were in thick cuffs and wrapped in ropes of wolf’s bane.  That would explain the burning.  The skin around the ropes was red and blistered, which meant he had probably been there for a while.  Using his elbows, he managed to get himself upright to his knees and was immediately rewarded with regret as the nausea swam from his gut and up to his throat.  After swallowing hard, he breathed through his mouth till the sensation passed and he could think straighter.  Chains, about two and a half feet in length, kept him from having too much mobility, or getting up from his knees.  They were attached to a metal plate that was bolted down into the cement.  Clearly this wasn’t a chain that was just done by happenstance or just happened to be there.  This was set up and planned...  His body was jittery and weak from the wolf’s bane.  If he was at full strength and ability, he might have been able to yank the plate out of the cement, but in his current state, it wasn’t possible.  

“Welcome back to the world of the living Derek.” Argent stepped into his line of sight.

The pleased expression on Gerard’s face did nothing to ease the werewolf, but anything he wanted to say was lost in his addled mind which throbbed in pain with every heartbeat.  The most he could manage was to glare up at Argent in hatred.

“Ohhhh...” Gerard chuckled, “I suspect if looks could kill, I’d be a very dead man.” he walked closer, but maintained a safe distance from Derek, “Fortunately for me, I don’t have to worry about that sort of thing.  You barely had any decent abilities as an Alpha so as a beta, you aren’t any real threat.  To be honest, it didn’t come as any great surprise to learn you weren’t an Alpha anymore.” He spread his hands out, “Imagine my shock though, to hear that Scott had managed to become one, all on his own!” The old man grinned.

Derek rolled his eyes, not in the mood for posturing.  And as for any insults thrown at him or people pointing out his shortcomings, Derek could beat himself up just fine on his own.  There was a list he kept in his heart of his failings.

Instead of paying Argent attention, he turned his gaze to his surroundings, trying to figure out where he was.  His eyes adjusted to the light well enough that aspects of the space came into focus and recognition slowly came to him.  

Gerard must have noticed, “Ah, figured out where you are did you?”

They were in the distillery.  

This was where Deucalian had come to meet with Gerard at an attempt at peace talks between the werewolves and the hunters - where Gerard had double-crossed the packs and blinded Deucalian.

“We’ve come full circle...” Argent said when he noticed how things came together in Derek’s head, “And I’ve come back to tie up all the loose ends.  I’m going to end all of this where it began.  Once and for all.”

“You... mean,” Derek panted out, drawing words slowly through clenched teeth, “What... you started!” 

“Yes, what I started.  And what I’ll finish!  I’ll kill McCall and become the new Alpha.  After that, it will be easy enough to destroy the rest of them... removing any unsavory elements from the board.”

“You’re a Hunter!  How can you...  You be a werewolf and a Hunter?”

Gerard’s shark grin became more disturbing as his teeth sharpened, “What’s that saying?  Be careful hunting monsters?" He chuckled, "All those years I had no idea of the opportunity I was missing by not getting the bite.  When I wanted it as a cure for my cancer, I was thinking too small.  You see, we can do so much more to cleanse the world of vermin, like yourself, if we had your speed and strength, as well as our other skills with weapons.  Once I become an Alpha, I’ll give the rest of my men the bite and the advantage will be ours.  Oh, we’ll still have a few humans to handle the wolf’s bane and such, but there won’t be anymore werewolves hiding among the sheep when we can smell you mutts out.  We’ll drive you and your kind to ground and destroy you all!” he laughed in sick glee, “Like I said... full circle Derek!”

“You’re insane!” the werewolf growled.

The humor drained from Gerard, “And you’re a corpse.” he gestured towards the other Hunters who had been waiting patiently around him.  While they moved about the distillery carrying large red cans, Argent watched and spoke, “As I said, I’m tying up all loose ends Derek... And part of that is finishing what Kate started by ending the Hale blood line.  Time for Beacon Hills to have a clean slate!”

Derek was allowed only a heartbeat of confusion before the scent of gasoline from the cans the Hunters had hit his nose.  They started pouring the clear liquid along the floor and splashing it against the walls of the distillery and then the old tanks and debris.  Realization came in a jolt, sending his heartbeat racing.

“That’s right Derek...” Gerard cooed, obviously hearing the other werewolf’s speeding heart, “You’ll finally get to join your family again.  You’ll be able to know what their final moments were like.  I’m sure you’ve imagined it hundreds of times.  Had dreams about it... Wondering what they felt. What their last thoughts were... Now you’ll get to know.  The way I see it, you should be thanking me.”

Frantically, Derek began pulling on the chains, trying to break them or pull the plate out, break the shackles.  Blood trickle down his hands as blisters were burst and scraped open.  The pain of the wolf’s bane didn’t matter anymore in the light of the panic that was overtaking him.  His heart was thundering in his chest.  He couldn’t die.  Not like this.

Not like his nightmares.

Gerard turned and walked away towards the open door of the distillery, followed by his Hunters, who tossed the cans aside now that they were empty.  When everyone was out, he pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it open to awaken the tiny flame, then tossed it inside to the nearest puddle of gasoline.  “Goodbye Derek.  Give my regards to your mother,”  The gasoline ignited and the door was pulled shut, revealing the swirling cuts made in the metal door made years ago - a symbol of revenge.

The fire quickly crawled across the floor and started climbing the walls, rapidly overtaking everywhere the gas had been poured.  Derek watched in horror - the flames were swallowing the world around him hungrily.  He was surrounded and going to drown in burning heat.

Time meant nothing - had it been a few minutes or a few hours?  All that mattered was his frenetic attempts at getting free.  His body was trembled, like the bones inside were about to shatter.  The air wouldn’t go down his throat right.  It tasted like smoke and ash, tightening his chest.  

_Not like this... not like this..._

Derek’s arms screamed in pain, but there was no give.  His own heart pounded... was thundering in his ears, blending with the strange squealing noise of the building being consumed by the fire.  Metal twisted  and melted, wood creaked and groaned out death moans.  The smell of things burning filled his nose.  It was the scent of his nightmares, what made him flinch from bonfires and fireplaces.  Eyes stinging all he could see was walls of flame growing ever closer, feel the heat painfully tightening his skin.  Sparks and debris fell around him like snowflakes, burning his skin through his clothing when they landed on him - sending him skittering to try to avoid them.  Animal instinct had him yanking on chains that wouldn’t give, ignoring the sharp agony of his wrist breaking.  

Terror.  Smoke.  Fear.  Pain.  Fire.  

_I’m going to die like my family.  There’s no one to save me._

  _Perhaps its for the best._

 

*************************

**Three Years Later**

 Derek awoke with a start, his heart stuttering in his chest.  He was breathing hard with the ghost of ash and smoke on his tongue, his hair and sheets drenched in sweat.  After taking a deep cleansing breath he swallowed and tried to reorient himself.  

The familiar ceiling of his loft was a comfort.  It was a quick reminder that he was safe and the fire - at least the one he had dreamt of - was years ago.  The air in the loft was cool and clear and the light was from the rising sun coming through the windows.  Groaning softly, Derek rubbed his face, wanting to wipe away the memories of that night.  Before being trapped in the distillery, he could only imagine what had happened to his family - what it was like to be surrounded by fire... to feel it lick at your skin, to draw in smoke to your lungs instead of air...  to be trapped.

Now he knew.  He had clear vision of what suffering his loved ones had gone through.  It gave his nightmares a sharper edge that he hadn’t had before - New night terrors to wake up from.  Thinking about it made him anxious and his skin feel itchy.

Derek hadn’t gone out from his building since Scott had visited him over a week ago.  They obviously hadn’t spoken since their disastrous conversation either.  Just thinking about it made him cringe and feel sort of sick to his stomach.  The Sheriff had called the day before, asking if he had time to stop by the station to look at their ‘X-Files’ as he called them, but Derek gave the excuse of being in the middle of some renovations that needed to be finished and asking if they could do it another time.  If the older Stilinski suspected him of lying, he had the good grace to keep it to himself and let it go.  “All right, let me know when you’re free.” the man said lightly before disconnecting the call, releasing Derek back into his solitude.

It hadn’t been a complete lie really.  Derek threw himself into his work, tearing down walls and beams then ripping up old flooring for days till the loft was completely gutted and he was left feeling the same way, because no matter how much he did, he was hollow inside.  

All his mind seemed able to bring up, no matter how hard he worked, was that day three years ago when everything had changed between him and Stiles and it all got twisted and wrong.  Derek had managed to push it all down in the pit of his existence with all the other bad memories that he had so many of - honestly, he wondered how he managed to maintain any sanity.  But Scott had to come and dredge everything up, asking questions Derek didn’t want to answer and making him think of things he would be happy to forget.

And all of it because of that bastard who should have been dead.  

They should have known no one really dies in Beacon Hills...

With a sigh, Derek sat up and glared at the cheery sunshine now illuminating his home.  If he was up, then he was going to work on the lofts and feel like a productive part of the world again.  That would also mean having to go out and get some supplies in town from the hardware store.  Determined, he hauled himself out of bed and grabbed the first clothes he found on the floor.  He had pushed it all down into the pit before, he could do it again... rebuild himself and be a real live boy once more.

 

_*************************_

 

Derek tried to ignore the sound coming from the box as he drove towards the Animal Clinic.  It was persistent and needy and there was nothing he could do about it, so there was no point in saying anything.  Except he ended up murmuring, “Shhh... We’re almost there.”  

The response he got was a chorus of mews from the kittens inside the cardboard container that was lined with a thick fluffy towel.  The mother lay amongst her small brood rather calmly, considering a stranger had taken her from the back alley and collected her litter and put them in a box.  Usually cats didn’t respond well to werewolves - to the point that Scott couldn’t tend to them much at the clinic - but perhaps the mother knew she wasn’t doing well.  Derek suspected she was hungry and dehydrated.  

It wasn’t normal for him to go rescuing stray animals around town - not counting the dog he found wandering the Preserve because that was a one time thing that happened.  But for some reason, while he was exiting the hardware store, he couldn’t ignore the pitiful sound of the kittens that were coming from behind the building.  Not knowing the first thing about taking care of cats, he figured it would be best to get them to Deaton, even if it meant running into Scott. 

His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, wanting the tension to go away, trying to will it back down where the rest of his self loathing from all his mistakes roiled in the darkness of his past.  He’d done pretty well the last couple of years, not thinking about Stiles’ face when he’d pushed him away - not wanting to throw up at the memory of hurt he saw in those bourbon colored eyes before they shuttered against him.  And of course, then Scott had to come and start digging things up, pulling them up like weeds. 

Derek knew he meant well - was only thinking of his best friend - and to be honest, it was only a matter of time before the subject came up.  Derek had been waiting for it.  It was more of a surprise that it hadn’t happened sooner.  

He spotted the turn for the Animal Clinic and carefully made the right, not wanting to jostle the box and its precious cargo too much.  The kittens were still pretty small, tumbling over each other and probably had only just opened their eyes.  Having them careening around in there probably was disorienting enough.  His eyes flicked down into the box to see that they didn’t seem too overwrought by the turn, then lifted his gaze back up to see Scott’s car parked out front.  Biting back a curse, Derek figured it was too much to have asked that he get there when Scott was off or maybe out to lunch.  With a sigh he pulled into a parking space and decided to face the music.  He couldn’t avoid Scott forever.  

After unbuckling his seatbelt he climbed out of his SUV then came around to the passenger side.  The kittens must have noticed the vehicle stopped because they started pawing at the sides like they were going to climb out, their tiny mews getting more excited.  Carefully he lifted the box up and carried it around the door before kicking it shut and heading to the front entrance.  There was someone’s bicycle leaning against the building and a familiar scent lingered.  It was pleasant, like an old kind memory.

Derek frowned, shifting through mind to figure out where he smelled the person before, because it was someone’s scent...  It went with a voice that also was very nice.  He blinked in realization.  The Guide from the Sheriff’s office over a year ago.  What was she doing here?  A loud mew from the box drew his attention back and he apologized absently before continuing to head inside.

Deaton’s voice carried first, “May I ask why you think I could help you?”

She sighed, “I... well... A young woman suggested that I come and speak to you.  A Dr. Morell from Eichen House?  We had been speaking about what made Beacon Hills unique and the uh, issues with the feral and Zoned-out Sentinels.  She brought up this... Nemeton? She said you would know more about it.”

At that, Derek’s attention grew more focused.  What was a Guide doing asking about the Nemeton?

Some of the kind humor drained from Deaton’s expression, “I see.”

Scott glanced over at Derek who must have looked like he was going to ask something or say something, because the younger man shook his head slightly - signaling him to remain quiet on the issue.  Derek nodded once, understanding.  

“Was she wrong?” The young woman asked.

After a few moments, the Emissary shook his head, “No... she wasn’t.  But, this really isn’t the best time for that sort of discussion.” he gave her a kind smile, “Perhaps we can make an appointment and we could go into more of a lengthy discussion?”

Relief rolled off her and he could feel her perk up, “That would be great.”

Deaton took a card from the holder on the countertop and handed it to her, “Here, my number.  Call and we’ll set up a time to talk and I can answer any questions you might have.”

“Thank you.”

“If I might suggest?” the veterinarian added, “Don’t bring up the Nemeton with anyone else.  It isn’t public knowledge of its existence and I’m afraid it would all sound very strange to people.”

“I understand.  I work with people who can hear a pin drop in the next town over.” she laughed softly and it sent a light thrill through Derek’s chest, “I’m used to dealing with people not understanding the strange.”  With that, she stepped back, “I’ll call to make an appointment with you.  Thank you for your time Dr. Deaton.”

“You’re welcome Miss Nolan, I look forward to it.”

She turned to leave, her shoulder hitting Derek’s abruptly.  Stepping back, a blush lighting up her cheeks, she stammered, “Oh god!  I’m so sorry!”

Derek glanced down at her to assure her it was nothing, but the words got stuck in his throat when his pale eyes met her darker ones.  The breath left his lungs as something deep and primal responded inside of him - something he didn’t normally touch unless it was a full moon.  His teeth itched and his fingertips tingled, like his fangs and claws were on the edge of growing.  Her heartbeat grew loud in his ears, the sound of her breath entering her lungs and exhaling between her lips that were now slightly parted.  The world drew down into a focus of details - the dark blue of her eyes, shot through with streaks of gray, the curve of her lips where the lower one was a bit larger than the top, the low arch of her dark brows, slightly furrowed while gazing back at him.  Her throat moved in a hard swallow and he echoed the motion, finding his mouth had gone dry.  

The look of wonder in her eyes grew shadowed in confusion as they darted over his own features, taking him in.  Finally she breathed, “You’re... not a Sentinel...” 

Unable to really form a word at the moment, Derek shook his head.  He wanted to lean in and take in the smell of her, which now seemed more important.  He wanted her to say something else because he liked her voice, light and even... calm.  He wanted things he couldn’t put into words.

The bell over the clinic door jangled loudly, jarring him.  A mother came in, yapping on her phone with a baby in her arms and another hanging off her jacket sleeve looking harried.  It broke the spell or whatever was happening between Derek and the woman, sound and light flooding back into him.  He blinked and jerked his head, wincing, but not before seeing the woman step back and gazing around in confusion, clearly feeling an echo of what he was in the moment.  The mother brushed past him and went to the counter, “Hi, I’m here to pick up Brewster.”

Derek’s feet were unsteady when he opened his eyes, but the Guide wasn’t there anymore.  Spinning on his heel he just caught the door clicking shut.  Stepping forward to go after her his brain suddenly tilted, coming online to start questioning what the hell had just happened.  The desire to find her and the confusion over what he’d just experienced warred in his head, nearly making him vibrate with indecision.   

“Derek.”

“What?” He asked, not sure who was talking to him.

“Derek?” the voice was concerned.

The werewolf’s head turned to the sound and there was Deaton, standing on the other side of the counter and staring at him, very clearly worried.  He should say something to assure the man, or play it off, maybe glare angrily to warn the veterinarian away... but he has no words to say and is too caught up in his head to express himself.   

A chorus of ‘mews’ was what snapped him out of his haze and he remembered he was still clutching the box of cats to his chest.  His eyes lowered to see tiny fluffy expectant faces pawing at the cardboard walls.  “Right...” he muttered, still a bit out of sorts when he walked up to the counter to place the box there, “I found these.” he said by way of explanation.

Deaton glanced down at the cats and nodded, but his eyes narrowed on Derek, “Are _you_ okay?” one brow rose in question.

Derek nodded once, not sure what happened enough to say anything more.  Scott had gone into the back while the mother and kids waited beside Derek and he was glad because he wasn’t sure he could handle the Alpha right at this moment on top of Deaton’s intense stare.

The vet didn’t seem to be taking him at his word, “You’re sure?” the dark brow arched further.

“Yes,” Derek said, glaring.

It was clear that Deaton didn’t believe him, but was apparently willing to let it drop, “Where did you find them?” he pulled the box closer and gave an appraising gaze to the cat and her kittens.

“Behind the hardware shop.”

“Well, the mother seems a bit lethargic... Probably dehydration.” He gave a small smile, “It was good of you to bring them in.  If the mother passed away, all these little ones might have followed soon after.  I’m sure we can fix them right up and find them good homes.”  He went to lift the box, then paused, “Did... you want one of them?”

Derek quickly shook his head, “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Here you go Mrs. Lanz... Brewster is all set to go home.” Scott declared cheerfully, leading a beagle on a leash around the counter to where the owner was standing.  

He handed over the lead and the woman grinned, “Do I owe anything else?”

Scott shook his head, “Nope, what you pre-paid covers everything.  After giving a harried thanks Mrs. Lanz herded her family out the door.  When the door closed, Scott looked at Derek and without preamble asked, “So what the hell was that dude?”

Derek frowned, “What?”

“You and that Guide... Did she do something to you?” 

“I...” He shook his head, eyes moving from the Emissary to the Alpha, confused, “No... nothing.”

“No,” Deaton said slowly, “I don’t believe she did anything Scott...” 

The response annoyed Derek who saw the expression on the darker man’s face.  It was the one that said he knew something, but wasn’t going to share with the rest of the class.  “Just spit it out Deaton.”

“I don’t think anything bad happened,” He clarified, “I think it was just old fashioned... attraction.  It does happen from time to time.” He shrugged and lifted up the box with his enigmatic smile.  “I’ll take these cats in back Scott.  Mr. Fields should be in with his dog, Abbie shortly,” then he was leaving the two werewolves alone.  

An uncomfortable silence followed and it was clear that neither Derek nor Scott knew what to say.  It was Derek who finally decided to end the stand off, “I’ll see you...”

“Derek...”

The older man paused, clenching his jaw and waiting to hear more reprimands and accusations that he wasn’t ready to deal with... but would listen to.  His pale eyes met the dark ones.

“What happened between you and Stiles, you don’t have to give me details.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “I just...” He sighed, “Did you... feel anything for him?”

Frowning further, Derek felt himself wanting to snarl at the other in response, like he was protecting something precious... though it was only himself and really, what was precious about him anymore?  Perhaps it was more the speck of what might have been... what could have been between Stiles and himself.  

Taking the silence for an answer, the young man sighed again, as if he expected it, “Look... I get it.  I do.  Your history and everything...” Derek frowned, but Scott went on, “You were worried about Stiles and him being involved with you.  But that’s also the past... Right?”

Derek wasn’t sure what to say to that so he said nothing, just crossed his arms, feeling a need to close off the sensation of being laid bare.”

“How long are you going to punish yourself?”

The older man’s mouth opened to answer - to snap at the other.

“You’re right,” Scott put his hands up, “Its not my business... But... Just... maybe you shouldn’t keep yourself from living.” He looked up at Derek, his expression earnest, “Stiles once said something to me and I’m going to tell it you...  Its okay to want something for yourself once in a while.” Scott gave him a knowing look before glancing at the door, then turned and went to the back, leaving Derek standing in the waiting room.

 


	6. Patterns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... sorry for the delay in posting. There were a couple of reasons - I had Otakon Las Vegas to prepare for and do and then there was some work... And of course there was me re-writing this about 8 times and 10 different ways till I was satisfied enough with it to post (still not fully satisfied to be honest but then.. there you go). Thank you for your patience in waiting for this - I'll try to be quicker on the next update. 
> 
> As always, unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine! Please let me know if there is anything I need to correct or any tags I should add. I'd love to get some feedback because I am writing in a vacuum here.
> 
> To those waiting for specific things to happen, I promise they will all happen in time. This story has grown much larger than my initial intent and I'm just trying to go with it.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading and for the kudos - it is GREATLY appreciated! <3
> 
> (Chapter title from a song of the same title by Band of Skulls)
> 
> ___________________________________________________________

  **Three Weeks Later**

 “Thank you for meeting with me, Dr. Deaton,” the young woman said with a smile as she settled into the chair across from Deaton’s - his desk between them. “You and Dr. McCall.”

“Oh,” Scott smiled a bit bashfully, “No, I’m not a doctor yet.  I’m still going to school,” he shook her offered hand as he sat in the chair next to hers, “You can just call me Scott... Ms. Nolan, right?”

“Samantha, please,” she nodded, “You also know about the Nemeton?”

Deaton leaned forward to set his elbows on the table and clasp his hands, “Scott is rather well versed in the history of Beacon Hills, which does include the Nemeton.” He smiled amiably, his dark eyes flicking towards the young Alpha’s before returning to their guest’s, “Now, Ms. Nolan, you said last time that Dr. Morell recommended you speak to me, but I’m curious...  You were speaking about Beacon Hills and the Sentinels?  How did the subject of the Nemeton come up?”

Scott remained silent, his gaze resting on the young woman as he waited for her answer.  Of course he and Deaton had spoken a few times since the Guide had come in asking about the Nemeton and they agreed that they didn’t trust Maron Morell’s motivations for sending her to him.  While both she and Deaton were Emissaries that were focused on maintaining the balance, Morell tended to be more extreme in her endeavors.  Proof of that was when she helped Deucalian and his Alpha pack, almost getting Scott and Derek killed at the claws of Boyd and Cora.  And Scott was probably never going to forgive her for being so willing to kill Stiles while he was possessed by the Nogitsune - more interested in ending his life than figuring out how to help him.  All of her actions were in the name of her interpretation of keeping the balance, so the fact that Morell sent Ms. Nolan to the Animal Clinic to ask about the Nemeton had them both feeling a little apprehensive.  

“I suppose it might be a little weird for us to talk about that,” the Guide conceded, “It started off having nothing to do with Beacon Hills really.  There had been confusion regarding an unidentified Sentinel.  He was about 14 years old, which is the normal age for a Sentinel to come On-line, but, unfortunately, his behavior and the things he described that were happening to him were misinterpreted as hallucinations.”

“He was seeing things?” Scott asked.

“No... more like auditory and olfactory hallucinations.  The doctors treating him believed he was showing signs of Schizophrenia and had him committed to Eichen House to get him help.  Sadly, its a pretty common diagnosis for Sentinels if people don’t know what they are looking for, or understand what’s happening,” her jaw clenched slightly and Scott could tell there was a memory attached to that comment.  “Dr. Morell identified the signs the boy had as that of a Sentinel and contacted the Recovery Center to confirm her suspicions.  Since I was on duty that day, I was the one to go to Eichen House with the Sentinels and give some preliminary tests.  He was pretty calm, just confused about everything, so after he showed signs of a Beta level Sentinel, arrangements were made with his parents to have him discharged from Eichen House and sent to the S.I. for proper training.” She shrugged, “I had time, since I wasn’t really needed, to speak further with Dr. Morell.  We talked about Eichen House, her job at the High School, and then some of the history of Beacon Hills.”

Scott glanced at his boss, wondering how much Maron revealed in this ‘talk’.  Ms. Nolan seemed pretty relaxed and he didn’t sense any tension, so he had to figure nothing too... strange... was brought up.

“To be honest,” the Guide continued, “I’ve done some research at the library and Beacon Hills seems to have a rather... eclectic past.  A lot of strange things have happened here... so I shared my concerns about the number of Feral and Zoned out Sentinels.  I mentioned that I saw an article on some mystic site online that mentioned ley lines and that’s when she brought up the Nemeton.  She didn’t say much about it, insisting that I find you since you would be the best one to talk about it.”  Her dark blue eyes trailed from the veterinarian to the young man next to her, then back again, “So here I am...”

Unsure of what Deaton’s reaction would be, Scott turned his head towards the Emissary.  He wanted to take his cues from however the other man wanted to handle this.  And of course, Deaton was a sphinx, revealing nothing with his expression - leaving the Alpha envying the other’s ability to do that.  The young werewolf tended to be too... expressive.  He often thought it was a miracle that he managed to fool Gerard all those years ago when he switched out the old man’s pills.

“So, you’ve already done some investigating on your own,” he said, one brow lifting slightly.

“Yes... I’ve been concerned with the situation here in Beacon Hills and the Sentinels...” her shoulders slumped slightly, “I thought there had to be a reason for what we’ve dealt with.  Normally, Sentinels are brought to a Recovery Center, found in places all over the world...  But here, they sort of just wander in from time to time and of course there are the... escaped Sentinels from the Center.  So, I tried to look at articles online and old newspapers at the library.  It’s how I sort of fell into the information about ley lines.  I thought that maybe the combination of the ley lines and the concentration of Guides at the Recovery Center might be some sort of... uh... beacon?” Ms. Nolan wrinkled her nose at the unintended pun.

Deaton tilted his head, “This sort of thing hasn’t happened at the other two Recovery Centers?”

“Well, I called them to ask, but they weren’t too forthcoming with that sort of thing.  I don’t really have any authority so I really couldn’t find out much and I was trying to keep the actual issue sort of... quiet.  No one wants misinformation to get blown up into a panic.” Her fingers nervously picked at a loose thread on her pants, “Honestly, I don’t want to cause trouble for the Recovery Center.  From what I could tell, neither of the other two have the problems we’ve had here.  If I go on the idea that they’re telling the truth, then I have to think that Beacon Hills is unique.”

“Because of ley lines?”

“I don’t know... maybe because of this Nemton thing?  I’m sort of shooting in the dark.  I have a lot of information, but I haven’t tied it all together.”

The veterinarian leaned back in his chair, “It’s certainly possibly,” he said in an off-hand sort of way, though Scott knew his boss believed there was very definitely a connection.  The Emissary was obviously trying to play this cool, “Ley lines are a network of natural energy that flows over the earth, made up of electric waves.  Scientifically, they are known as telluric currents.” Scott nodded absently, having heard Deaton speak of this before, “Ancient people and some more... spiritual... people believe that you can draw power from the pathways of these currents.”

“Drawn like how...?  Like electricity from a wall?”

His lips quirked in humor, “A bit.  Yes.  That might be a good way to look at it.  People have been attracted to them, like a magnetic pull.”

“I’m guessing that ancient people thought it was magic,” Ms. Nolan added.

“Correct,” he bobbed his head once.

“But what does that have to do with the Nemeton?”

“The ley lines intersect all over the earth, like strings criss crossing each other.  Where the lines intersect, there a ball... a stronger point of energy.  These... nodes, if you will, on the ley lines, were considered great sources of power and became important landmarks.  It is believed Stonehenge is on top of intersecting ley lines.”

She considered this for a moment before saying, “So... the Nemeton is on one of these... ley line nodes.”

“Yes.  The ley line nodes tended to become places ancient people used as... points of connection to the other world.”

“Like WiFi hotspots.” Scott provided happily.

Deaton chuckled, “Sort of, yes.  The locations became sacred and many times, a place where rituals or sacrifices were held.  One group of peoples that often did so were the Druids.”

Ms. Nolan raised her brows in surprise, “Druids...  Here in Beacon Hills?  I didn’t realize that ancient Celts were such a strong part of California’s history.”

“Well, they weren’t a large group, nor were they instrumental in the overall settling of the state, so they wouldn’t be in the history books.  But I’m very sure the Nemeton had been sacred to the Native Americans that had been here before the settlers came and took over.  These sort of sites become taken over by each successive group and considered places of power.”

“The Nemeton is on the node of... uh... telluric currents,” her head titling, “Is it an actual place you can go to?”

Deaton shook his head, “Not any longer.  Not really.  It was once a great tree, but it has long since been cutdown, so its just a very large stump.  Only the name remains of what it once was.”  

“Killing the tree didn’t... uh... cut off the power?”

“The tree wasn’t necessarily the power source itself.  Just a conduit.  If you actually believe you can access the power of the ley lines that is,” he shrugged.  “You have to keep in mind that there is no actual proof of anyone being able to tap into a ley line.  I imagine, if scientists could access the telluric currents in the way people used to think they could, then we’ve have probably heard about it.  As you know, magic isn’t real.  You work with Sentinels all the time and I’m sure people can be rather backwards in their thinking in regards to the abilities of Sentinels... Thinking of them as... magic.  But you and I both know, they are simply normal people with extremely heightened senses.”

The Guide nodded, mulling it over.  Scott wondered what she was thinking, because if she suspected that the Emissary was misleading her, there was no way he would really know.  “But what _is_ real is the... magnetic pull of the telluric currents.  That something... that draws people.”

“That?  Yes.  The telluric currents exist.  And some people are sensitive to the presence of them.  It would definitely make sense for Sentinels to be the type to be pulled by the ley lines since they have heightened senses.  And of course, the calming presence of gathered Guides would add to the... attractiveness of Beacon Hills.  Especially to a Feral Sentinel.”

“It makes sense... I think.” she sighed and leaned back in her seat, “Though none of this is anything I could bring up to a supervisor.  If any of it was found true, it would prove it was a mistake to build the Recovery Center here and no one would want to hear that.  That’s just a PR nightmare waiting to happen.”

“So,” Scott leaned forward slightly, “You aren’t going to tell anyone?”  He really wanted to keep the Nemeton a secret and while Ms. Nolan might mean well, her investigating further or bringing attention to it, might inadvertently cause more problems.  

“No... not really.  There’s no one to tell.  And what would I say anyway?  Some magical tree stump is calling out to Sentinels like sirens at sea?” She smirked, “That’s not gonna fly too far.  I’d probably lose my job or get transferred, which I really don’t want.  I like my job.” The Guide fiddled with the loose string again.

“You think they’d fire you?” 

She looked at Scott, “Probably.  No one likes a trouble maker.” Her gaze returned to Deaton, “I don’t know what I was looking for really.  Maybe a simple answer or something...  Something solid that I could point to.”

“I don’t suppose a ‘magical tree stump’ would fit the bill,” Deaton smirked good naturedly.

“No, not so much,” the Guide chuckled, “you know, I have to admit, I was a bit surprised when Dr. Morell recommended I go to a veterinarian to speak to about this.”

“Well, I’ve lived in Beacon Hills a long time and I’ve actually had to look into the history of the town a few times when I’ve had sick animals to tend to.  Sometimes the history of a place can give you answers to the present.  And I am a history and mythology buff,” he gave a noncommittal shrug.  Scott had to commend the man on how well he handled all of this.  He wondered though, why Deaton chose to even discuss the Nemeton with the Guide in the first place.

“Where is the Nemeton located by the way?”

“It’s in the Preserve.  Fairly in deep.  I’ve tried a few times to see it, but ended up with more scratches and bruises than are worth the trip.”

“Oh...” she sighed, “Its too bad we couldn’t just... I don’t know.  Turn it off or something.” Then she quickly added, “If it was the cause of the problem that is.”

Inside his head, Scott agreed.  It would be great to switch off the Nemeton.

“Yes, if it was, as you said, the reason for the problem,” Deaton gave a slight huff of breath in humor.

Ms. Nolan sighed more deeply then straightened in her seat, “Well, I’m sorry.  I seem to have wasted your time with this,” she shook her head ruefully.

The veterinarian shrugged, “Unfortunately, there aren’t any magical answers most of the time.  That isn’t to say your theory regarding the telluric currents is incorrect,” he added, “But that’s not magic.  That’s just science.”

Nodding in agreement, she rose from her seat, “Well, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

Deaton rose and extended his hand towards her, “My pleasure.  And if you have any further questions, then please, don’t hesitate to call me.  I’ll help you out the best that I can.” He gestured towards the young Alpha who was rising from his chair now, “Scott, would you please show Ms. Nolan out?”

Scott smiled, “Sure,” he escorted her to the front room of the clinic, lifting the gate of the counter so she could pass through, “Sorry we couldn’t be more help,” he said softly.

“Oh... no you were very helpful,” She assured him, returning his smile, “Sometimes the help we get is what we need, not what we want,” Her shoulders perked in a shrug.

At the front door, he paused, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“The day you first came in to talk to Dr. Deaton, you bumped into a friend of mine here in the waiting room..”

A blush lit up her cheeks almost immediately, “Yeah.  I trip over clusters of atoms if I’m not careful,” Her hand brushed back hair over her ear in a gesture of nerves.

Scott gave a short chuckle before continuing, “Uh... were things okay between you two?”

Her brows furrowed, “Oh... um, yes?” Her nose wrinkled slightly, “I guess.  I don’t know.  It was weird. I think I guess I thought I knew him from somewhere... Or, you know, him being super attractive.” She blushed redder when she realized what she just said and quickly waved it off, “Just one of those deja vu moments I guess.  Glitch in the Matrix and all that.” The young woman cleared her throat, “Uh... anyway... hopefully I didn’t weird him out too much.”

She wasn’t lying.  Scott could hear it in her heartbeat, even elevated in her embarrassment.  So either she was really good at hiding a lie or she was telling the truth.  Maybe Deaton had been right - that it was nothing serious outside of attraction... But something more had happened that day between her and Derek.  He just didn’t know what.  Both their heartbeats had started going fast, even though they were standing still.  Odder still was that the beats grew in sync.  The energy had changed in the room, making the hair on the back of his arms and neck stand up - not in a bad way - it was just... strange.  Deaton, being human, hadn’t sensed it.  Derek played it off like it was nothing, but Scott knew him well enough to ignore his opinion.  So even though she may have been telling the truth, he wanted to keep an eye on things as much as he could.  “Yeah... okay.” he smiled and felt her presence ease again.

“Thanks again Scott,” the Guide shook his hand, “Hopefully see you around...”

“Yup...” he waved, watching her leave the clinic and then get on her bike to ride off down the street.  After returning to the vet’s office, he leaned against the desk, “She seemed nice.”

“Yes,” the older man said, obviously mentally preoccupied.

“If you don’t mind my asking, why did you agree to meet with her in the first place?”

“For a couple of reasons Scott,” he came around the desk to his file cabinet, “Obviously Maron wanted her her to come here and meet with me.  That was enough of a reason to pique my curiosity.  And speaking to her was the only way to find out exactly what Ms. Nolan knew.”

“I get it,” he nodded in understanding, “And... you wanted to make sure to direct what information she got about the Nemton.”

Deaton smiled, “Right.  By downplaying the actual supernatural elements and making the information about the Nemeon seem more like a myth.  Legends and fairy tales.  Nothing that would actually have anything to do with the current Sentinel issues.”

“But... they do.”

“I believe so,” he breathed out, “I suspect the Nemeton might be a large part of the problem, but I have no real proof.  If I could find a Sentinel to use as a guinea pig, then maybe I could test a few theories... But I’m in no hurry to bring attention to the Nemeton as its off the radar right now.” He pulled some files out of the cabinet and brought them to the front of the clinic, Scott in tow, “Of course, the question isn’t if the telluric currents are responsible for drawing the problem Sentinels here or not.”

“No?”

“No...  We already know they are related.  The real question is... did someone in the S.I. know about the currents, and if so, did they know what they were doing when they build the Recovery Center here in Beacon Hills?”

 

*************************

  **Two Months Later**

Derek walked down the aisle of the grocery store, clutching his hand basket as he went over the list of things he needed in his mind.  The August heat was pretty oppressive outside, so people were taking their time in the air conditioned environment, prolonging their shopping trip to stay in the cooler air.  Already irritable from the weather, the slow moving people around him didn’t help his mood.  He’s been working steadily on the lofts for weeks on end, but after nearly passing out a few times, he had to put a stop to all labor in the building till the heat wave passed on.  Derek would definitely be thankful when Fall settled in Beacon Hills.

Working his way around the wagons and other shoppers, he got to the produce section, which was a nice reprieve from the myriad smells of human sweat, products, and perfumes that permeated the rest of the store.  The fresh fruits and vegetables were actually a refreshing respite to his senses.  Usually he could control how much he ‘scented’ the world, but sometimes there was only so much a werewolf could block out - especially in the summer time.  

He strolled over to the selection of apples, looking over the range of red shapes piled in their pyramids.  Seeing the Red Delicious, he was about to choose some when a familiar scent traced through the air, feathering against his nose...  Lilacs... summer... vanilla...

His head swiveled around to track where it had come from, instinct making him react before his brain processed what was happening.  In his chest, Derek’s heartbeat skipped, then quickened, all his senses opening up to find the source of that singular scent.  

“Excuse me,” an elderly voice cracked through his attention and Derek glanced down to see an old man staring up at him through black framed glasses.  The elderly fellow gestured towards the apples which Derek was currently blocking.

“Oh, sorry,” he muttered distractedly before quickly side-stepping away from the fruit to start following the scent of her... The Guide.

After passing around the apple displays, he crossed over to the piles of bananas, then tracked over to the peaches.  From how the aroma lingered there, he could tell she had stayed there for a little while, touching them - probably checking for ripeness before selecting them.  In his mind, he could almost imagine her there, lifting one of the fuzzy fruits, her dark hair up in a pony tail that didn’t stop tendrils from falling loosely about her face like it had at the Animal Clinic...

_What the hell am I doing?_

Blinking he shook his head slightly, wanting to clear it.  There was a peach in his hand, held up near his nose as if he was trying to smell it just because she had been.  With a jerk of his wrist, he let the peach drop back to its pile and stepped back.  This was crazy.  

He’d been fine for most of the summer, gaining his internal equilibrium.  Everything with Scott’s confrontation and his strange reaction to the Guide had been mostly forgotten as he’d thrown himself into his work on his building.  Now here he was, standing and staring at peaches in the grocery store after a trace of a scent of a woman he bumped into months ago.

Derek had never experienced such a reaction to someone before - not Paige, or Kate, or Jennifer.  There was no memory that he could recall about this happening to anyone in his family, or even to werewolves in general.  If it was something normal, his mother probably would have told him or mentioned it.  At least he hoped she would have.  Talia might have been waiting for him to get older before discussing it with him.  Derek was sure there was a lot his mother would have talked to him about when he got older... 

Familiar sadness grew and crested inside him before falling away once more.  

Forcing himself to ignore the urges tickling across his skin, Derek returned to his shopping, determined to get through it and just get home.  It didn’t stop him from sifting through the smells and finding her scent again and allowing the sensation to ease and relax him.  And if he ended up following the trace of her through the store?  Who was to know...

When he finally finished his shopping, he headed out of the store to be hit with a wave of heat that made him internally wilt from the force of it.  There was no way he was going to linger.  Digging for his keys in the pocket of his jeans, he strode across the parking lot to where his SUV was parked, his other arm cradling his bag of groceries.  

Reaching his SUV he caught the flash of red and blue lights against the surface.  Frowning, he looked around for the source and now noticed the police cruiser across the street, parked behind a sedan and a small crowd of bystanders.  Curious, he crossed the road to see what was going on and wondering if it was anything serious.   Carefully he moved among the people gathered listening to them talk as they played telephone tag about the story of events.

“ _She just walked out in the street..._ ”

“. _.. he was speeding..._ ”

“ _...Thank god the deputy pulled her just in time!_ ”

“ _A Sentinel... one of those crazy ones..._ ”

He puzzled what he could together and managed to piece it all into a narrative...  A Sentinel walked into the street and Jared Stewart, who had been speeding, almost hit her, but a deputy had managed to pull her out of the way at the last minute.  All in all, it meant more Sentinel trouble and he wondered if he’d be needed to help.  Moving closer, he spotted the Sheriff standing in the shade under an awning of a storefront, talking with the young officer who had apparently been the hero of the day.

“Greenberg?” Derek gaped.  The guy was still new on the force and generally was the sort you trusted more with paperwork than firearms, but he tried and meant well.  Apparently, years of high school lacrosse had helped his reflexes when it came to yanking women out of the way of speeding vehicles.

His attention was taken by Mr. Stewart, the driver, standing near his car, and getting louder and louder in his complaints about ‘crazy’ Sentinels running into the street.  Deputy Jones was attempting to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be working.  Derek could understand the man’s point of view and he was sure the high temperature was making his temper worse.  As it was, he could feel the press of too many sweaty people and too many... smells.  Mr. Stewart pointed, “She’s crazy! Just standing there in the street!” he pushed past the deputy and grabbed the arm of the woman who was sitting on the sidewalk, staring blankly at the sky.  He shook the Sentinel, shouting, “Are you deaf or something?”

Derek’s eyes widened when he noticed the other woman who was standing next to the unresponsive woman.  

It was the Guide.

Suddenly all he could smell was those lilacs... champagne... and the very thing that made her... _her_.  He froze, caught in the moment of taking her in.  Lost in the details.  Her long fingers with their short nails, the long dark hair, more brown than black, pulled up into a messy pony tail, the shine of perspiration at her collar bone, the smooth surface of her bare shoulders, “Get off of her!” she pushed Mr. Stewart back, “Leave her alone!”

“Who the hell are you?” the man snarled, “Her girlfriend?” he spat it out like an insult which pissed off the Guide and set Derek’s lip curling.  Officer Jones managed to put his body between the driver and the two woman now, but the tension was still in the air, buzzing like a swarm of flies.

“She’s Zoned!” the Guide shouted as she moved to kneel next to the Sentinel, setting her body between the other woman and the angry man.

“So some crazy Sentinel bitch--” 

“That’s enough Mr. Stewart!” Sheriff Stilinski barked, bringing a halt to any more yelling, Greenberg trailing behind nervously.  The Sheriff pat Deputy Jones’ shoulder to have him move aside before taking his place.  Blue eyes, as hard as diamonds, stared down at the driver, “Now, Mr. Stewart... I hope that these tickets Deputy Greenberg has written up will remind you to maintain the proper speed limits while driving through town.” He handed over the tickets, his voice calm and steady to let the air out of the situation.

Snatching the papers, Mr. Steward waved them at the woman who was still gazing up at the sky, “Yeah well, maybe if she hadn’t jumped out in front of my car--”

“Sir,” The Sheriff interrupted, “I have multiple witness statements that say the woman was standing in the road... _Unmoving_.  Had you been going the correct speed limit on the curve you would have easily seen her and had plenty of time to break to avoid hitting her.  As it was, you were going too fast and the tire marks on the road suggest hard breaking.  If she hadn’t been pulled out of the way in time, she’d be dead and I’d be arresting you and charging you with manslaughter.” It was a dark picture and Derek knew Stilinski was trying to get the driver to realize how much worse this could all be for him.

He didn’t get the hint.

“So what?  They get to do what they want?  You not gonna do anything about that?”

After rubbing his face, the Sheriff glared at Mr. Stewart, “You know what I’m _gonna do_?  I’m gonna start thinking that maybe, instead of letting this go with a few tickets, I might drag you down to the station to formally charge you with reckless endangerment,” he put his hands on his belt, fingers near the pocket holding his handcuffs, “That’s a felony.  And if you’re convicted, and I’m betting you probably would be, you can get some jail time.  So Mr. Stewart, what are you _gonna do_?” He leaned forward, allowing his imposing figure and uniform to intimidate the other man.

Mr. Stewart paled and the sweat popping out all over him was from more than the summer heat, “Um... I’m gonna take my tickets and go home.”

“That sounds like an excellent idea.” The Sheriff smiled sarcastically.  Mr. Stewart scrambled around his car and got in to drive off - probably before the officer changed his mind - and at the proper speed limit.  Once he was gone, Stilinski turned around and walked back over to the two women, “How we doing over here?”

The Guide managed a smile, “We’re okay Sheriff. Thank you.  Before you got here I was sure he was going to burst a blood vessel.”

He waved off the compliment then nodded at the Sentinel, “Is she... okay?”

“She will be,” the young woman said softly, “She’s... really focused on a flock of birds a few miles off.”

“Did she get hurt at all?”

“Looks like a few scratches, maybe a bruise or two, but otherwise she’s fine,” the Guide shrugged before flashing her dark blue eyes towards the tag on Greenberg’s uniform as he stood next to them, “Thanks to Deputy Greenberg here.  He’s really a hero.” She smiled up at him.

The young deputy started blushing, “Oh, uh.. well...” he stammered, while Stilinski just looked rather proud, if not surprised.

They were interrupted by a black sedan followed by a gray mini-van pulling up to the curb.  From the former, Mr. Ecks exited with two Sentinels, all of them dressed in their black jackets with leather sleeves.  Derek thought they had to be sweltering in the hot August sun, but they didn’t show it on their faces beneath their sunglasses.  From the mini-van, there was another Sentinel, followed by a tall young man with broad shoulders, wearing heather grey shirt and pants.  The Sheriff stood up to greet them and Derek heard them discussing the situation.  His eyes drifted back towards the Guide who was talking to the man in grey.  They were obviously familiar with each other, that much Derek could tell and he could also tell that it bothered him.  She was comfortable with this man in a way that suggested a long time relationship - was it just work or was it more?

Finally, the man escorted the Zoned Sentinel away and the Guide asked, “Darryl, do you need me to come in?”

“No, its your day off... Thanks though.”

His eyes remained on her, though he noted, peripherally, that the S.I. vehicles took off.  She brushed off the light blue sundress she was wearing and then waved at the Sheriff.  Derek noticed how her nose and cheek were pink and probably now sunburned.  There were a few freckles on her shoulders and he wondered if there freckles any where else.  There were tendrils of hair curling at her brow and temple, damp with perspiration and the canvas shoes she had on were well worn, edges fraying.   

“...Derek.”

Derek watched her lift her bike from where it was leaning against the wall of the hair salon and then walk it down the street, its front basket filled with bags of groceries - the faint smell of peaches wafting from one of them.

“Derek?”

His focus blew outward again and he noticed the Sheriff standing next to him, “What?”

“I was just saying hi when I noticed you standing her, but now I’m asking if your okay,” he paused, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Are you okay?”

The werewolf’s dark brows knit, “Yes, of course I am.  Why are you asking?”

Stilinski’s pale blue eyes were on him, steady as a laser beam before he pursed his lips and nodded, “Okay...  You just seemed a bit... preoccupied.”

“I’m fine,” he managed to keep back the harsh tone.  Most of the crowd had dispersed now that the excitement was over, but he was sure the gossip would be moving like wildfire.  “So, is everything good here?” He hoped to change the subject and get Stilinski’s avid gaze to go elsewhere.

“Yeah.  Crisis averted thanks to Greenberg, of all people,” he chuckled and shrugged, “People do surprise you...” He turned to go then stopped and looked over his shoulder, “See you at the station some time?”

Derek nodded absently, “Yeah...  I better get home,” he lifted his grocery bag as if to indicate it was the reason he needed to leave, “I’ll see you..”

“All right son...”

Taking the moment, he turned and crossed the street to return to the parking lot and his waiting car.  Unlocking the door, he did his best to ignore how the scent of lilacs faded with each step.

And how he missed it when he got into his car and shut the door.

 

************************* 

**Two Weeks Later**

The Sheriff was tired, but he knew that if he didn’t get through this now, it would drag on.  After listening for a while to Mr. Ecks ramble on about how he felt things should be and bringing up how the driver a few weeks ago should have been arrested rather than getting tickets, he simply pointed to the man, “You I don’t like,” then he pointed to the young woman seated next to Mr. Ecks, Samantha Nolan, “You, I like.  We can keep you.”

The Guide looked appropriately surprised by his commentary, but Mr. Ecks heaved a dramatic sigh before pinching the bridge of his sharp nose beneath his glasses, “Sheriff, Ms. Nolan is at the Recovery Center to serve as a guide.  She is neither qualified nor in a position that would allow her to direct or institute policies.  If this was the reason you requested a meeting with her, then I’ll end this right now.” His hand dropped and he lifted his eyes towards the Sheriff, “I’m the head of the facility.  I am the one you deal with... Whether you like me or not.”

“True, but I think that someone in your position is simply too busy making sure there are no problems with any more escapee Sentinels and Feral or Zoned Sentinels.” Stilinski pat his hand on the pile of files that were on the left side of his next - the files were all related to Sentinels and the Recovery Center.  “I mean, you’ve been so busy that it took months for you to be able to meet with me for the specific purpose of creating a procedure for dealing with Sentinel issues.” Unfortunately, it hadn’t stopped the calls from going out to the Center before official calls could be made by him.  Someone was still working as some sort of mole for the Recovery Center and the Sheriff was no closer to figuring it out.  He definitely suspected Mr. Ecks was involved, but he had no proof and still no real motive. “I’m sure you would rather focus your attention on maintaining positive PR so that the people in this town see the Recovery Center as a boon to Beacon Hills, rather than a danger.”

“Well, I know there have been some situations...”

“Then you have to agree that things are rather shaky now between the town and the Center and rather than have you sitting here in my lovely office conversing over policy or signing paperwork with me, your time would be better served dealing with issues at the Recovery Center.  Don’t you think?”

The man fidgeted in his chair and frowned, thin lips pulling at the sides, “I don’t need to be at the Center full time to do that.”

“Oh, but I think you do,” The Sheriff calmly clasped his hands on the desk, “See, we’ve had way too many reports and while the Mayor absolutely loves having the Sentinels here, she sees the way her voters might not share that viewpoint if the escape Sentinels and Ferals continue to be a problem.  Or, god forbid, harm one of her constituents.  So I think it might be better if you remained focused on that, while we figure out a way to deal with the things you let through the cracks.”

“Sheriff--”

“Mr. Ecks,” the young woman sighed, obviously picking up on the mood of things, “I would be very happy to work with the Beacon Hills police force.  I believe the Sheriff and I are acquainted enough from previous meetings to be able to work well together.  And I will of course bring any questions or policies to your attention and approval.”

“See?” Stilinski grinned, “We’re all agreed.” he opened his hands and gestured to the people in the room.

“We are not all agreed!” Mr. Ecks protested, “I’ve approved nothing and I won’t be strong armed into doing anything.”

“Well then maybe I should recommend to the Mayor that a more qualified person might be better suited to running the Recovery Center.  See if we can find someone who can get a lock on this whole thing.”

“You wouldn’t...”

Stilinski just leveled him with a glare.  He wasn’t playing games anymore.

“Fine,” the man adjusted his glasses, “You’ve made your play.  You win.  But I will not be assigning Ms. Nolan as a liaison.  She’s needed at the Recovery Center.  I’ll appoint someone else of _my_ choosing.”

He felt like arguing, but decided not to, figuring he got partly what he wanted.  If he really didn’t like the person Mr. Ecks chose, he’d simply let the man know and get him to find someone else.  Ms. Nolan had been his choice because he liked her personality and she had a way of handling situations that gave him confidence in her abilities to do the job.  “Fine.” he said out loud, conceding.

“If that’s all settled then?” Mr. Ecks said, rising from his chair.

“As of right now it is.”

“Good.  Then we’ll be going...” the two Sentinels that had been silently standing by the door moved to step out of the Sheriff’s office.  Mr. Ecks paused at the entry, “ _Mr._ Stilinski... your position is an elected one too... isn’t it?” then he grinned and turned on his heel, following the two men in black jackets.

Ms. Nolan was up and reached over to shake the Sheriff’s hand quickly, “Thank you for thinking of me for the position, it would have been nice to work with you. Um... Sorry about all of that.” 

“No problem,” he smiled back at her before walking her towards the door to his office, “Hopefully I haven’t put you in a bad spot with him.”

She shook her head, “I don’t think so... But he’s well... him.” The Guide shrugged and waved before moving to catch up with the three other men.  

Stilinski leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms as he watched them crossing the bullpen.  He didn’t have a problem letting Mr. Ecks know he didn’t like him.  Lord knew the head of the Center had made his feelings clear about the Sheriff.  And he didn’t worry too much about the little power play.  It was important that Mr. Ecks know that he was starting to skate on thin ice and that his support system in the Mayor wasn’t as strong as he thought.  Something had to change before the complaints from townsfolk turned ugly.  It was already getting pretty rough with the phone calls and random charges some people were bringing in.  Most of it was just nonsense and fear mongering, but it took time and resources to deal with and it wasn’t like there was no other crime going on in Beacon Hills.  And god help him if something supernatural decided to rear its ugly head into the picture right now, because he wasn’t sure he could handle that at the moment on top of everything else.

Of course, speaking of supernatural...  His eyes landed on the familiar dark form of Derek Hale, lurking in the doorway of the break room, half hidden and watching someone.  Frowning, the Sheriff tracked where Derek was looking and noticed it was Ms. Nolan who was now just heading out the main doors after Mr. Ecks.  “Hmmph...” he grunted with interest.  

He sauntered over to the break room and smiled pleasantly.  This time Derek noticed him and nodded, “Sheriff.”

“Derek... Good to see you,” he glanced around, “Any particular reason you’re lurking in my station?”

The younger man appeared to take some offense at this, “I’m just standing here.  I’m not... lurking.”

“You’re standing halfway behind the door of the break room and looking like you’re hiding.  It seems a bit... lurky to me.” He tilted his head, “Did you need something?”

Now Derek crossed his arms, “I just got back from a call with Parrish.  He thought it might be another Feral Sentinel, but it was just a drunk out by the edge of the Preserve.” he jerked his chin towards the deputy’s desk and Stilinski looked over to see Parrish there, a man half flopped over a trash can sitting in the chair next to the desk.  After a moment, the drunk leaned over and vomited into the trash can.  

Making a face, Stilinski quickly turned back towards Derek, “I see... Well thanks for doing that.  Always appreciate your help in that regard.” He set his hands on his belt before asking, “Do your... _werewolf_ ,” he whispered the word, “Senses get weird around Sentinels or Guides?”

Derek’s eyes dropped as he thought about it, but then he shook his head, a confused expression on his face, “No.  Why do you ask?”

“No real reason except... That’s twice I’ve caught you staring at that young woman and she just happens to be a Guide, so I thought maybe you were getting some weird vibe from her.  Hence,” his hand gestured towards where Derek was standing, “The lurking.”  Then Derek’s eyebrows lifted up high enough that Stilinski was sure they reached his hairline and he had to keep from laughing.  Instead of pressing the issue, because if there was one thing he knew about the man, was that Derek didn’t do well with was being cornered on things, “See you later.... Let me know when you’re free...” Besides, they didn’t talk about anything serious or that might mean something.  It was always work between them.  

“Yeah... okay.” 

The Sheriff returned to his office and sat back down at his desk, noticing that it took another 10 minutes before Derek left the break room and exited the building.

 

************************* 

**One Month Later**

“I think we could use a break,” The Sheriff’s voice broke the silence as he rubbed his eyes which were feeling tired from staring at files for the last four hours.  He and Derek were in his office, file boxes opened and at their feet with more files spread out on the desk between them.  All of them were what Stilinski had called ‘The X-files” - unsolved and cold cases - that he wanted to look back on with fresh, supernaturally opened, eyes.  Together they had figured out some of them and Derek identified a few as werewolf issues - packs trying to cause problems, but Talia had handled those.  The process was slow going though.  It wasn’t always obvious that there was anything supernatural and some of the cases were simply normal ones that couldn’t be solved.  You had to be patient and look for the clues carefully - the wording of witnesses and how the report was written.  It could be arduous.

Derek looked up from the notebook he was writing in, a file open right next to it.  He’d been making a timeline on the lined paper of the events from the case they were working on, trying to piece together the crime and his memories at the time.  “That might be a good idea,” he agreed, his pen set down on the notebook as he leaned back, “I think I might be getting a headache.,” Then he stretched his arms over his head, “And you need better chairs in here.” It was his common complaint.

“Not in the budget,” Stilinski countered as always, “Come on, I’ll buy you a coffee,” he rose from his chair and came around the desk to clasp Derek’s shoulder.

“That’s in the budget?”

“It is today...  Come on.”

The werewolf huffed softly then followed the other man out and down the street.  The days were shifting with Fall so the day was warm, but not oppressive at all and the air had that edge to it on the wind that suggested cooler days to come.  Kids were in school so the town felt more quiet without them all over the place looking for something to do to alleviate summer boredom.  “Scott and Kira coming back for Thanksgiving next month?”

The Sheriff nodded his head, “Yeah.  His Dad is coming too.”

“...His Dad?” Derek was well aware of Scott’s relationship with his Father.  It had only marginally improved since the man had returned while Scott was in high school.  They’d had talks back then about revealing the truth about the whole werewolf thing to Agent McCall, but it always got shot down in the end.  Scott was convinced his Father wouldn’t handle the news well and would probably lock them all up.  The man still was sure that the Oni that stabbed him was just some guy in a Halloween mask - even though he appeared in a cloud of black smoke.  

“Yeah...” Stilinski nodded, “Should be interesting,” he smirked, “Didn’t see you much over the summer when he and Kira were in town.  We had a couple of barbecues and dinners...”

Derek shrugged, “Yeah... I was just really busy with the renovations.” 

“Hmm...” 

He didn’t really want to get into a discussion about why he hadn’t been more social with the pack.  Sure, it probably had to do with him feeling self conscious around Scott, but that had faded quickly enough to him needing time and space on his own.  Besides, he did better on his own and he wasn’t really a part of Scott’s pack to begin with.  If he was needed, he was sure they would have called him.

“So I’m thinking on this case,” Derek didn’t try to hide the change of topic, “I vaguely remember some of it.”  The case was an attack of a young girl by a teenager.  The teenager had been reported by multiple witnesses as acting strange and weird.  Most of the sightings had been of him near or in the woods of the Beacon Hills Preserve.  The girl he attacked had been with her family going on a hike.  She’d wandered off a bit and came face to face with the teenager and it ended with her having a broken arm.  Luckily, nothing more or worse.  No one could identify the teenager and he was not seen again.

“I was only a deputy then,” The Sheriff said, “And it was all over the local news... I was sure we’d get something... some hint or clue of who he was and where he’d gone off to.  Even did house searches... But either that kid hid really well or he got out of Dodge fast.”

“I was like... 13 I think?” Derek frowned, thinking back on the timeline he’d been working on.  He hadn’t met Paige yet, but he had been focused on basketball and his friends and all the stupid things kids his age thought was so important.  The shifting hadn’t become a problem, though anger and emotional outbursts seemed right on track as puberty took over.  He and his parents butted heads more often than not and he was constantly looking for ways to get out of the house and away from his family.  It took him a long time to gaze back at that and not blame himself for being the way he was - especially because of losing them all.  There was no way he could know what was to come and he was just a teenager being a teenager.  Forgiveness had been very slow, but he was almost there - it didn’t stop the ache though whenever he thought of his parents, siblings and family and he figured it never would.  Not that he wanted the ache to stop.  He was actually afraid that one day he’d feel nothing... and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know who he’d become for that to happen.

“Do you recall anything your parents might have said about it?  Considering your house was right on the edge of the Preserve.”

Derek nodded, “I know I was told not to go out into the woods,” and he’d been angry about it too.

“And this teenager... you didn’t know him and wasn’t a...” he gestured vaguely towards Derek.

“A werewolf?” He shook his head, “No... I don’t think so.  I’m sure Mom would have mentioned that at the time.”

They reached the coffee shop and as the Sheriff opened the door he said, “Maybe some caffeine will jog your memory,” He slapped the werewolf on the back and allowed him to enter first.  

He could only hope that was the case as he entered ‘Perks and Recreation’ coffee shop.  The inside wasn’t large and most of the floor space was taken up with round tables and mismatched chairs.  The barista counter was to the right of the door, against the wall with a huge glass case showing off locally made pastries and cookies with a huge chalkboard on the wall behind the bar listing all the offered drinks - and it was an extensive list with a special section of seasonal specials.  It was a local favorite.

“Good afternoon Sheriff!” chirped the woman behind the counter, “What are you doing here?”

The older man smiled amiably, “Not here on business Maureen, so nothing to worry about.”

“In that case, what can I do ya for?”

“Two large coffees.  One light and one light and sweet.” he started to move to look over the muffins piled artfully on a cake plate with a large glass dome over it, “And make ‘em hot.”

“You got it,” she nodded and turned to prepare the coffee, her eyes lingering on Derek who was generally used to the attention.  

It was unwanted attention to say the least.  People - women or men - looking at him like something to own... to devour.  Kate might have been the first, but she wasn’t the last...  Mostly he ignored it and sometimes, yes, he used it for his own ends.  All of it was part of the human condition and the interaction of the species.  But there were times he wished his body could show the scars he had suffered over the years, so that maybe when people looked at him, he could feel like they were really seeing him.

He sighed deeply, taking in the sent of coffee which was great for cleansing the scent pallet (which is why it was used at perfume shops to smell between perfumes testings).  Of course, that’s when he caught the familiar aroma of her... The Guide.  

Feeling panicked he nearly sent the elevated cake dish of donuts crashing over as he spun around to look for the source.  The Sheriff was standing at the other end of the counter, under the sign saying ‘Pick Up Here’ in hand written script and there were a few people at the tables, talking, using their phones or laptops.  Then he spotted her sitting near the back corner, facing the wall with white earbuds connected to her phone in a universal sign of wanting to be left alone as she looked over some papers.  Derek relaxed a bit as he gazed over at her, observing without the immediate worry that she might see him.  The Guide’s hair braided loosely today, over her shoulder and she was wearing heather gray, soft looking clothes, a black jacket with a hood hanging on the back of her chair.  

The desire to cross over and sit next to her was strong enough that he took a step and then had to force himself still.  All he wanted was to be near her and just... be.  Swallowing hard, he stepped back, feeling the hard surface of the curve of the counter against his spine - a solid to hold on to.  

“Derek?” The Sheriff asked from where he was standing, “You all right?” 

Flicking his eyes from the Guide to Stilinski, Derek nodded, “I’m, going to wait outside.” he jerked his head towards the door then quickly exited the coffee shop and took a deep bracing breath of air.  It was unsettling to have this reaction to her every time he saw her, smelled her, or heard her.  What was so damn special about this one woman?  His eyes were pulled back towards the large front windows of ‘Perks and Recreation’ looking through the glass panes to see the Sheriff was now standing next to her table, talking with her, smiling and friendly.  She was smiling back, the earbuds now on the table surface as she gave him her full attention.  Derek wondered what they were talking about... if they were talking about work, Sentinels... or him.

There had to be some sort of reason for how he was feeling.  The need and desire that struck him - the immediate spark inside.  He had resources available to him, people to go to with questions.  Deaton was possible, but Derek usually grew annoyed at how the Emissary doled out information and after his response that day in the clinic, the werewolf wasn’t sure he wanted to be smirked at through the whole conversation.  Peter was also a possibility - still being held in Eichen House’s underground ‘supernatural jail’.  Chances were, his Uncle would have answers, but then Derek would be leaving himself open to be manipulated and pulled into the man’s head games.  There was nothing Peter liked better than twisting information and words to his advantage.  There might be something on the internet - there was some truth posted online, but it all had to be buried under half-truths, misconceptions and lies to hide it from the common people.  It was always a matter of finding the right site.  

And of course there was Chris Argent.  Derek’s relationship with the man had changed over the years to something that he could think of as friendship, though it was always tentative.  There was just too much history between them personally and their families to completely be at ease with each other - even if there was forgiveness, there would never be forgetting.  Still, the former Hunter had access to files and information that Derek could look at - maybe this had nothing to do with him being a werewolf and this was something else supernatural.  

He made a note to leave a message with Chris when he got home later, but at the moment he noticed the Sheriff had spotted him peeking into the coffee shop and had that damn smirk again.  As soon as the Guide turned to see what Stilinski was looking at, Derek spun out of sight, flattening against the wall between the window and the door, cursing at himself for doing something so childish.

It was only a minute or so later that the Sheriff was backing out of the coffee shop, pushing open the door with his shoulder with their coffees in hand.  Letting the door swing shut again, he handed Derek’s over and said, “Anything you care to tell me?”

Taking the cup in hand, he shrugged, “About what?” then started walking back to the station.

Easily matching his stride with Derek’s, the older man said, “About what happened back there.”

“Nothing happened.  I needed some fresh air.” 

“Mmhmm.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, annoyed that Stilinski was so observant about everything.  It made him a very good cop but an annoying friend.  To redirect the conversation he said, “So I think I remember something about the case...” he didn’t wait for the other to respond before continuing, “A night or so after the day of the teenager breaking that girl’s arm, I remember Peter sitting in the kitchen looking disturbed.  My Mother and Father were there too with a few of the other adults, but I specifically remember Peter because normally he always looked kind of smug, as if he was the smartest person in the room, but this time... he was confused.  I asked him what was wrong and he said something like, ‘Evolution never stops... And one day, you won’t be the predator anymore...’.  My Mom told him to shut up and stop trying to scare me and sent me up to my room to bed, but I could hear them arguing.” He frowned, “I just can’t recall all the words though... At the time it didn’t seem important.”

The Sheriff didn’t say anything for a while, simply walking at Derek’s side and sipping his coffee.  Finally he asked, “Do you think he was referring to the teenager or to something else being in the woods?”

“I don’t know...” he shook his head before rubbing the spot between his eyes, feeling the frustration that comes when you have something just on the tip of your memories that you just can’t grasp.

“Don’t force it.  It’ll come to you when you least expect it.  We’ll go back and work on that timeline some more.  Maybe something will fall into place.”  They walked in silence for a while more, each lost in their own thoughts before the Sheriff spoke again, “I ever tell you what I used to tell Stiles?  About patterns?”

“I... don’t think so.” The man rarely ever mentioned his son’s name or spoke of him nowadays.  

“Hmm...” he chuckled softly, “Her name is Samantha Nolan.”

“Whose name?”

“The Guide,” he glanced up at Derek, “That was number three.”

 


	7. Like Real People Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long for an update. I've been going through a root canal (not fun). Also, after some commentaries I went and changed some things around and had to adjust the storyline. On the upside, you'll get two chapters posted at once! I'll also be changing the tagging.
> 
> All mistakes are mine since this is unbeta'd. Please let me know if there is anything I need to correct or any tags I should add. To those that took time to comment, thank you! I appreciate the feedback! And thank you for the kudos. I'm going to keep trying to be worthy of them - I appreciate everyone's patience.
> 
> This is a long one! 
> 
> Warning: Panic attack for one of the characters
> 
> (Chapter title from a song of the same title by Hozier)
> 
> ____________________________________________________

**Four Years Ago**

 “Goodbye Derek.  Give my regards to your mother,”  The gasoline ignited and Gerard Argent pulled the door shut, revealing the swirling cuts in the metal door made years ago - a symbol of revenge.

The fire quickly crawled across the floor and started climbing the walls, rapidly overtaking everywhere the gas had been poured.  Derek watched in horror - the flames were swallowing the world around him hungrily.  He was surrounded and going to drown in burning heat.

Time meant nothing - had it been a few minutes or a few hours?  All that mattered was his frenetic attempts at getting free.  His body was trembling, like the bones inside were about to shatter.  The air wouldn’t go down his throat right.  It tasted like smoke and ash, tightening his chest.  

_Not like this... not like this..._

Derek’s arms screamed in pain, but there was no give.  His own heart pounding was thundering in his ears, blending with the strange squealing noise of the building being consumed by the fire.  Metal twisted  and melted, wood creaked and groaned out death moans.  The smell of things burning filled his nose.  It was the scent of his nightmares, what made him flinch from bonfires and fireplaces.  Eyes stinging all he could see was walls of flame growing ever closer, feel the heat painfully tightening his skin, sparks and debris falling around him like snowflakes, burning his skin through his clothing when they landed on him - sending him skittering to try to avoid them.  Animal instinct had him panicked, yanking on chains that wouldn’t give, ignoring the sharp agony of his wrist breaking.  

Terror.  Smoke.  Fear.  Pain.  Fire.  

_I’m going to die like my family.  There’s no one to save me._

_Perhaps its for the best._

 

*************************

 **Four Years Later - December**  

The air was brisk outside and the inside of ‘Perks and Recreation’ was near busting with patrons.  After Thanksgiving, it seemed that downtown grew more and more busy with the holiday season in full swing.  This meant the coffee shop’s tables were filled.  

Derek had been coming regularly to ‘Perks’ since the Sheriff had treated him a few months ago - not every day, just about every other day really.  If anyone asked him why, he’d point out that they made a decent cup of coffee and that he needed to do something more with his days.  

His time was mostly split between going over the cold cases with the Sheriff and working on the lofts, but there was nothing in between and he realized that probably wasn’t very healthy.  He’d actually been fairly social during Thanksgiving, making sure to drop by Melissa’s house when Scott and Kira were there (and thankfully Agent McCall wasn’t), took time to share a few beers with the Sheriff while watching the football game (though he didn’t really care that much about the score) and dropped by the station for the small Thanksgiving meal they put together for those that were working on the holiday (even bringing a store bought pumpkin pie).

He could tell from the surreptitious glances from his friends that they were all rather pleased with his return to the social circles after pulling away for so long.  They’d probably been worried he would become a hermit, or worse, like Peter.   

They didn’t know the real reason he regularly went to ‘Perks and Recreation’ so often though, was that _she_ was there.  Samantha Nolan.  

Usually, he managed to get there before she did and he pieced together a sort of schedule for her - knowing that she came in around 8 a.m. or 3 p.m. on days she worked and around noon on days she didn’t.  On the days she was on duty at the Recovery Center, Samantha wore soft gray clothing - tops which varied and slim fitting pants that were more like tights and sometimes sweaters - and always the black jacket with the hood.  On her days off, she would wear normal clothes, nothing fancy, but leaning more towards comfortable.  Sometimes she had a book to read, but most times she had a notebook and files that she pulled out from her messenger bag.  While having her chai latte, she’d look over the files, making notes, mulling over whatever she was looking at and listening with earbuds to music from her phone.  The music was eclectic, ranging from alternative rock to operatic arias.

But Derek wasn’t stalking her.

Granted if an outside observer knew all this, it probably seemed like he was, but he truly wasn’t.  

He’d already made the decision that he wasn’t going to talk to her or meet her or try to instigate contact - certainly not till he had some answers about his desire to be near her.  Chris was currently overseas in Spain and incommunicado - probably hunting something dangerous - but he was supposed to be in France to spend Christmas with Isaac, so he had to wait till then to talk to him.  Derek’s other options were Deaton and Peter, but he was putting those off for as long as possible. 

After he had seen her in the coffee shop and he knew her name, the urgency to go to her seemed worse.  He had paced in his loft, found he had measured things wrong and had to do them over, and had used the wrong stain on the floor and then had to sand it all down again and stain it correctly.  It was distracting and made sleep difficult.  So technically the first time he went to ‘Perks and Recreation’ he really intended to just get a coffee to wake up.  Samantha just happened to come in at the time and he got it into his head to return to the coffee shop more frequently.

Whether she noticed him or not, he didn’t know.  Sometimes he thought he felt her gaze on him, but he fought all urges to turn his head to check.  Her heartbeat sometimes skipped and he sensed a nervousness, but that could be from anything.  Regardless, she would sit down at the back table when it was open, facing the wall and going through her files.  The scent of her - champagne lilacs, summertime vanilla - would reach him and his chest would expand, his heart would ease and the sometimes chaotic thoughts in his mind would unravel pleasantly.  It happened every time.  There was just a _rightness_ in having her nearby.

He’d bring a book with him to read, waiting for her to come so he could spend an hour with her, though she had no idea.  And after she left, he’d wait for another 15 - 20 minutes, then go back to his building and work the rest of the day on the lofts, feeling more focused.  

Today, with so many people, Derek wasn’t sure if she would even show up.  Normally, he’d avoid such a crowded place... and he could feel himself itching to leave now, but he stuck it out, reading ‘The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle’ at his table.  He knew immediately when she entered.  His pale eyes flicked up from the page at the same time the scent of her reached him through all the other people.  She was wearing her gray clothes and her black jacket, the hood down around her shoulders like a cowl.  Her cheeks and nose were pink from the colder air outside and there was a maroon knitted cap on her head.  Approaching the counter, she pulled the cap off, her hair flopping about her face, and smiled, “Large hot chai latte please?” 

Derek glanced around the room, noting there were no other free tables.  It meant that she probably wouldn’t be staying, which irritated him, but he figured that it had to happen from time to time.  His eyes returned to his book, but he just stared at the pages, letting the words blur and preparing for disappointment when she left. 

Peripherally, he observed her picking up her order and then turning to take in the crowd.  Her heartbeat picked up and her scent became anxious, but she was moving around the chairs and weaving through the tables... coming closer.  What was she doing?  

“Um... Excuse me?”

His heart sped up.  He lifted his gaze to see her standing next to him at his table.  Dark eyes bright, cheeks pink, hair tousled and held back loosely.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks turned pinker and her heart pounded loudly to his ears, “There aren’t any other tables and I was wondering if you minded if I sat down here.  Unless you’re waiting for someone?” There was a slight tremor in her voice like she was nervous about the whole thing.

“No,” he shook his head.

“Oh... all right,” She blinked, then nodded, “Okay.  Sorry to have bothered you.” Her full lips pulled into a polite smile before looking away to find another space.

Derek rolled his eyes at himself, “I meant no, I don’t mind and no, I’m not waiting for someone.” he sat up straighter.

The Guide paused and then her smile widened, “Oh great!  Thank you.” She quickly took the seat opposite him as if he might change his mind, “I promise I won’t take up much space.” After setting her cup down on the table, she reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a notebook and pen which she set beside her cup.  Once those were on the table, she hooked her bag strap on the chair and she shrugged off her jacket, letting it flop over the back of the chair as well.  “I really appreciate this,” she settled to sit down, her eyes flicking up towards him before dropping down to her notebook, still nervous.

“It’s not a problem,” his fingers tightened their hold on the book.

After another smile, this one shy, she pulled her papers off the table and set them on her lap, hunching over to read them.  She apparently was very serious about not taking any space.

“I’m not using the table... You can put your stuff on it,” he said quickly.

Her eyes darted upward, “Oh... Thank you,” the notebook was set on the surface and she turned her attention to it.  Samantha grew focused on her work so Derek tried to do the same with his book, but it was difficult to do that when she was right there, in front of him - close enough to reach out and touch.  He stole glances of her while she was concentrating on her notes, taking in details of her features he hadn’t been able to do before.  

The hour went by too quickly and before he knew it, she was done with her drink and putting her things away.  He wondered if he should say anything to her.  What was the etiquette between two strangers sharing a table?  Luckily for him, she spoke first, “I... uh... don’t know if you remember me...?” 

He looked up at her and when their eyes met, he saw her cheeks turn red and her gaze dropped a bit.  

When he didn’t say anything she went on, “We met months ago... or sort of met... at the Animal Clinic?” Derek nodded once, “I just uh, wanted to apologize for bumping into you and being weird.”

“...Okay.” 

“Okay...” she echoed then rose from the table, grabbing her jacket from the chair, “I’ve seen you in here before... You’re a regular, so I guess I’ll see you around?”  Again he nodded, not sure what to say, but wanting to say something... _anything_.  The Guide slide on the jacket and shouldered her messenger bag before quickly adding, “My name’s Samantha.”

He blinked as she regarded him expectantly before realizing he should tell her _his_ name now, “Derek.”

“Okay.” She smiled, cheeks still bright pink, “I’m going to go and stop bothering you now.  Thank you again for letting me use the table.”  Then she was heading out the front door and gone.

It wasn’t the worst first meeting. 

 

However, it was _a_ beginning of them sharing a table during the busy days of the holidays.  

The next time she came in, the coffee shop was crowded again.  Samantha walked up and apologized for bothering him once more, but wondered if she could sit at his table again.  Derek nodded and they shared a silent hour or so together, her doing work and him _not_ reading.  It was the same situation two days later, only this time, Derek met her gaze at the pick-up counter and gestured for her to come sit at his table.  The fourth time, he invited her again and did the same the fifth time.  After that, she quietly came and sat down at his table and it became something that they just did.  

“How’s the book?” Samantha asked before sipping her chai, breaking the silence for the first time with words that weren’t in greetings or saying goodbye.

“Hmm?” he frowned, then realized what she asked, “Oh... It’s good.” Currently, he was reading ‘The Devil in the White City’.  

She tilted her head to read the title her brow lifting, “Is that a literal title?”

“No... It’s about the Chicago World’s Fair and a serial killer...” When her nose wrinkled, his lip twitched in humor, “It’s actually pretty interesting.  Based on true events.” 

“So you like non-fiction?”

Sliding his finger between pages to hold his place, he closed the book, “Not always.  Depends on my mood.  Sometimes I just pick whatever sounds interesting.  What about you?”

She glanced down at her notebook, “Usually I stick with fiction.  Reality is weird enough and most times, true stories are too depressing.  I read to escape.” Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug before she quickly added, “Sorry, I’ll let you get back to your reading.” 

And so it went for the rest of December.  They shared a table and brief conversations about whatever book he was reading - which made him try to find more interesting books to read, making sure he had a new book each time.  He liked how she wrinkled her nose sometimes when she was talking, how she always had a smile for Maureen when she came in, no matter what her expression was as she walked through the door, and the way she quietly sat with him, not expecting anything from him but his presence.  

It became a new normal for him and while he might think of having something more, this was... this would do.

 

************************* 

**Four Years Ago**

The next thing Derek is aware of is agony.  

Then fire, tracing over his flesh, in his lungs, his mouth.  

He’s burning away to ashes and he just wants it all to end. 

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - January**

“They broke up last month,” Derek sighed into the phone, answering Chris’ question about how Scott and Kira were.

“ _What?_ ” 

He could understand the reaction.  He’d felt just as surprised by it when Melissa told him.  “Apparently she and Scott been fighting a lot since he started school again this year.  I don’t know the details, but Kira moved to New York after they got back to Fresno after Christmas.  She’s staying with her parents.”  It was sort of heartbreaking really.  Scott and Kira had been so happy together - they were like an adorable pair of puppies.  

“ _Well, I’m really sorry to hear that._ ”

“Yeah...” Derek agreed, then asked, “So how’s Isaac doing?”

“ _Good...  He’s sold a few pieces so I can only assume he’s doing all right.  Though I admit I don’t understand all of his art.  He says its all groundbreaking and meaningful so..._ ” There was real affection in Chris’ tone and Derek was glad that the man had taken Isaac in, offering a true father figure that he hadn’t had before.  

“ _I can hear you!_ ” Isaac’s familiar voice called in the background.

Chris chuckled, breathing out the word, “ _Werewolves..._ ” saying louder, “ _Then stop listening in!  Don’t you have work or something?_ ”

“ _Yeah!  Hi Derek!_ ”

Derek huffed out a laugh, “Hi Isaac.”

“ _Derek says--_ ” 

“ _I heard him!  See you later!_ ” a door shut and Derek could only assume the young man had left.

“He sounds good.”

“ _He is..._ ” and there is definite pride there.

It had taken Isaac a long time to recover from Allison’s death.  His life had been a series of losses and she had been the last straw for him in the end.  Chris, going through the same thing, was probably the best person to help - well, they helped each other.   

“ _Listen, I’ve looked into your situation._ ”

When Derek had spoken to Chris the first time about his reaction to Samantha, there’d been no laughter or teasing - the former Hunter hadn’t even thought Derek was crazy.  He simply took in the information, the ‘symptoms’ and actually had some initial suggestions that were quickly knocked down.  Derek didn’t believe Samantha was a Succubus or some sort of derivative of one.  Chris promised to investigate what he had access to.

“Okay.” he rubbed his palm on his thigh.

“ _I didn’t find any creature that really seemed to fit, but something you said specifically caught my ear._ ”

“What was it?”

“ _That your heart beats get in sync when you’re together.  While there are many possibilities when it comes to giving off pheromones to draw prey, that part never matched up.  Since I was trying to narrow my search, I focused on that and I found something, but I’m not sure it’s what you want to hear._ ”

“Go ahead...”

“ _For some species... there are mates--_ ”

“Argent... I’m not a wolf,” He growled.  Why did it always come down to this?  Humans always tried to make werewolves into some... animal.  Worse, like the _wolf_ was something separate from him.  It was _all_ him!  He was a werewolf, not a wolf and a man!  “Werewolves don’t do the mate thing!  They fall in love and have relationships like everyone else.”

Sensing his irritation, Chris tried to soften his voice, “ _I didn’t say otherwise, but your description fits with this description of True Mates that I found._ ”

“This is ridiculous.  I’m not in love--”

“ _Love has nothing to do with this._ ” the former Hunter inserted quickly,  “ _This isn’t about romance but about... well... DNA.  It’s more about genetics...  Two people coming together to create a stronger, better, and healthier offspring.  My guess is that you’re responding to finding a True Mate.  The one who would compliment you genetically.  It’s why your response is physical, not emotional, but since you aren’t a mindless animal, you aren’t just procreating.  You_ are _still bound by a primitive instinct though, and feel a strong urge to be near her._ ”

Derek remained silent for a long while, digesting this information.  He really wasn’t sure what to do with it if he was perfectly honest.  If it were true, how the hell would he ever be able to approach Samantha about it?  _Hi, we’d make beautifully babies apparently?_ “Is she feeling the same pull too?”

“ _I don’t know if this is something humans would normally experience.  As a Guide she isn’t just a normal human, so it’s possible I guess, but that’s all I have...  A guess._ ”

“Great...” he leaned forward from where he was sitting on his couch and rubbed his brow.

“ _I’ll keep looking into this for you,_ ” Chris assured, “ _This was just one avenue of thought.  Unfortunately, I’m a bit limited by what I have at hand and there aren’t many werewolves willing to speak to an ex-Hunter.  They certainly don’t have this sort of thing written down anywhere.  I’ll expand out of werewolf lore...  See what else is out there._ ”

“Okay... Thanks...” Derek sighed.  They exchanged goodbyes before hanging up and he fell back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling.  

 

************************

**Four Years and One Month Ago**

 The world comes back to him through the sound of a desperate voice. 

“Derek!” 

Its far away.  Miles...  Years...  Lifetimes.

“Derek, please!” 

He could follow it, but if he does, he knows what’s waiting for him.  The Fire. The ghost that had haunted him since his home had been made into a blackened husk, was poised, ready to claim him and consume him to nothing.  Ashes to blow away.

“God Derek, don’t you do this to me!  Come on!”

The pain was waiting for him.  It would hurt so badly.  He knew it.  Here, in the dark, he was safe.  Well, as safe as he could be.  If he stayed here, he’d end up like Peter, locked away... far away...  But... he’d be safe.

“Derek, you come back to me!  I need you!”

Need?

Need.

He was needed.  

 

************************

**Four Years Later - February**

 “Here you two go...” A plate with two heart shaped cookies with pink frosting was placed on the table.  Maureen smiled, obviously pleased with herself, “Free sample.” Then she practically skipped back towards the counter to help a customer.

Derek gazed down at the cookies, glaring at them like they’d personally insulted him.

Across from him, Samantha lowered the file she’d been reviewing onto the table and appeared just as pleased by the cookies as he was.  After a short moment of taking it in, she groaned, “Seriously?” under her breath.  Meeting Derek’s eyes her cheeks turned pink, “I didn’t put her up to that.”

“No,” Derek shook his head, “Neither did I.” 

“God I hate this time of year...” she muttered, taking a long drink of her chai latte to hide behind.

The holiday rush had ended, so there were open tables again, but he and Samantha still shared a table during their hour or so of time at the coffee shop.  It wasn’t something they talked about or planned, it just became habit.  In the back of Derek’s head were Chris’ words... _True Mates_ , repeating over and over like a mantra.  He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but the first time he saw her after talking to Argent, it had felt completely correct.  But even if he agreed with the idea, he had no idea what the hell that was supposed to mean.  If Samantha was his True Mate, she may not be aware of what was going on.  There had been a reaction between them at the clinic, but since then... there was no sign of her feeling the same as he did.  

Derek had no idea what to do next.

He sighed softly and slid the plate towards her, “Might as well...”

Samantha’s eyes glanced down at the cookies then back up at him, “They... do look good.” She nibbled on the edge of the coffee lid in contemplation.

The front door opened and a familiar man walked in.  Derek’s brows knit when the man’s eyes scanned the room and landed on the back of Samantha’s head.  He was wearing similar gray clothes that she had on when she was working and Derek had learned that it was normally what Guides at the Recovery Center wore.  The material was natural and soft to the touch and the gray was to be easy on a Sentinel’s sensitive eyes.  The man crossed the room, “Hey Samantha!”

She jumped slightly and looked over her shoulder, only relaxing when she saw him, “Oh, hey Darryl.”

Darryl... the Guide who helped the Sentinel months ago - the one that almost got run over.  The man grinned, “I’ve been looking for you.” His eyes flicked towards Derek and the werewolf caught a scent of... irritation.  If the man had been a wolf, he probably would have peed on Samantha’s chair to claim it.

“Well, I’ve been here. What’s going on?” Samantha slide her file into the messenger bag hanging from its strap on the back of her chair.

“We have that early staff meeting.  I figured I would come pick you up.”

“Oh, right.” she shook her head, “That’s fine, I can take my bike.” Her expression was apologetic to Derek when she rose from her seat to slip on her jacket, but he gave her a nod. “I have plenty of time to ride there.”

“It’s cold.  You shouldn’t have to.” Darryl got her bag from the chair, shouldering it before she could take it.

Putting her hand out to take the bag from him, she said, “It’s no problem.  I don’t want to put you out.”

Instead of handing it to her, Darryl said, “If it was a problem, I wouldn’t have offered.” He smirked, gaze taking in Derek as he said, “Why are you making such a big deal.  I’m just offering you a ride to work.  What, I can’t do something nice for you?”

Samantha blinked, “No, I mean... You can.  I just usually go on my own.  And how will I get home?”

“I’ll just drive you home after work.  We’re sharing a shift,” He chuckled, “I don’t know why you’re being so weird about this.  Come on,” he stepped back so she could go ahead of him.

She sighed, “I guess I’ll see you then Derek?”

The werewolf nodded and then remembered the cookies, “Here...” he gestured towards the treats.

“Oh right!” Samantha smiled and took one of them, “See you soon.” 

Derek nodded again and when she passed by Darryl, the other Guide reached over and snagged the other cookie, “Thanks man...” he saluted with the cookie then followed Samantha out of the shop.

Irritated was not a strong enough word for how Derek was feeling.  He had no idea who this Darryl was to Samantha, but he didn’t like the man - and not for stealing the cookie.  Was it because she was his mate?  Was this some sort of animal instinct thing?  His responding to another male infringing on his territory?  Derek rolled his eyes at himself.  He wasn’t an animal!

This was some sort of stupid jealousy and he had no right to it.  Maybe she and Darryl were dating?  Maybe her discomfort was because she was sitting there having coffee with some strange guy that her boyfriend didn’t know about?

Yes, he knew what she looked like when she came in tired or had a long day.  He knew her favorite drink was chai lattes.  She thought black licorice was gross.  When she was trying to figure out what to say, her nose would wrinkle slightly.  Her eyes were more gray on rainy days and more blue when the sun was out.  If she was deep in thought or really focused, she hummed quietly to herself.  When their eyes met, a light blush would color her cheeks and her heart beat would pick up.  

He knew all of that...  But he didn’t really know anything about her.

 

*************************

 **Four Years and Two Months Ago**  

Air.  He sucked it in desperately.  Felt it like a million demons clawing their way down his throat and into his lungs, filling them, bringing ash and smoke with it.  His body rejected the poisoned breath, sending it back up with violent coughs that rattled his body, waking up his limbs with jolts and jerks.  There was too much of everything - a world in revolt.  The sound was too loud, the light was too bright and always the smell of smoke that had plagued his nightmares.  His skin was on fire, the twisting agony of it making him want to crawl out of his flesh and hide away in the darkness again.  

Why did they need him?  Everything hurt!  Everything was pain!  Why did they want him here?

 

He wept.  

 

“Derek... I’m here...”

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - March**

Derek felt ill as he stepped into the room, the door closing behind him.  The sound of the locks sliding into place made him shudder.  He hated being in this place with its antiseptic smells and scents of misery... of violence.  The decision to come to Eichen House hadn’t been easy, but after weeks, he felt like it was his best choice.  He was no closer to figuring out things with the cold case and there was only one person alive who might have actually seen or knew something.

“It’s not my birthday or Christmas,” the voice was syrupy sweet, dripping poisoned honey.

Derek lifted his eyes up and squared his shoulders, “Hello Peter.”

On the other side of the room, separated from Derek by a thick glass wall, his uncle sat on a metal framed bed, his back against the cement wall.  Peter rolled his head towards his nephew, opening his eyes as a slow smile spread across his face, “Well, it must be a very special occasion if you’re here to see me.  Tell me Derek, to what do I owe this honor?”

Clenching his jaw, Derek reminded himself of his reasons for being in the deep subterranean ‘supernatural creature jail’ of Eichen House.  He had to keep those in sight or he’d end up getting into a twisted game with his uncle he didn’t want to play.  “I just have a few questions.”

“Just a few?” Peter play-pouted, “Not a social visit then.”  He’d been in this prison since Mexico, when he tried to kill Scott to retake his Alpha status.  His mind might not have become more stable, but he’d retained his good looks as he aged - the only real sign being some gray at his temples.  “Very well,” he sighed dramatically before gesturing for Derek to speak, “Ask away...” he closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest - listening.

“When I was... twelve or thirteen, there was a teenager that had been running through the wood, not far from the house actually.  He attacked a girl... broke her arm.  Do you remember that?”

Peter didn’t move, staying silent for a while till he answered, “I seem to recall something.  And...?”

Derek stepped further into the room, “Did my parents deal with him?”

“You mean, my sister and brother-in-law?” he asked, like it needed clarifying.

“Yes.”

“Hmmm,” he steepled his fingers on his chest, tapping his finger tips thoughtfully before gracefully getting to his feet, wearing his soft shirt and pants like they were fashionable,  “Yes, I do believe Talia went into the Preserve to investigate.”

“She thought it was a supernatural intruder.”

Peter hummed in agreement before turning away to stroll towards the neat pile of books that was against the back wall, “You know, I could really use some new reading material.  These paperbacks... I’ve been through them so many times they’re falling apart.”

“What did she find?  Did she come across him?”

He sighed, giving a shrug with a roll of his shoulders, “Yes.”

When no further information was forthcoming, Derek had to dig his fingers into his palm in a fist to keep from snarling.  He got too frustrated too fast with Peter.  Taking a deep breath he asked, “And what happened?”

“Oh... you know... nothing of note,” he waved it off, “Now about these books--”

“I remember you that night Peter.  You were sitting at the kitchen table looking like your world view had been shaken.”

Peter glanced over his shoulder, one brow lifting as he sneered, “You remember through the eyes of a child.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that _something_ happened.”

“It wasn’t important.  But my book collection could use some refreshing.”

“Screw your books Peter!” Derek snarled, hating that he was getting annoyed but unable to help it.  Peter just brought the worst out of him, “Tell me what happened.”

Now his uncle turned face stony, “You want to know what happened?  I’ll tell you...” Then he smiled, “If you promise to get me some new books.  Something more interesting than the played out bodice-rippers they give me here.  Something with a bit more meat on its bones...”

“Fine... I’ll get you books.”

“Good ones!”

“Yes, good ones.” 

“There,” he held his arms out, “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

“Peter...”

“Yes, I know... You want information.  This isn’t a social call.  You have questions.” He sighed and crossed his arms, “Yes, Talia went out into the woods... All the adults did.  We suspected that it was an Omega.”

“But it wasn’t.”

“No.  It was just a normal teenager.  Well... not normal,” he tilted his head slightly as his brow twerked up, “He was terrified when we surrounded him, but in an incoherent manner, confused.  He started rambling...”

“What did he say?”

“At first none of it made sense, but slowly we started to realize that he was picking our thoughts from our brains... Whatever errant thought or feeling we had, he would tell us.  And the longer we stood around him, the more intimate things he revealed.” 

“A mind reader?”

“I suppose... but he was none of the species of mind reading creatures I ever heard of.  His scent was definitely human.  Nothing strange or supernatural to him.”

“Mind readers aren’t unheard of.”

“Please!” Peter snorted, “Those people on TV? You and I both know they’re fakes.  But this kid, he was blabbering nonstop, like he couldn’t help himself.  Your Father knocked him out and we found his wallet with some high school ID.  They managed to get him home somehow, I don’t know.  I was sent back to the house to wait for them to return.”

“But what happened to him?”

He shrugged, “I was told he was, ‘taken care of’.  That’s all.”

Derek thought it over for a bit, mulling over the information and how it connected with what he already knew and suspected.  He gazed up at Peter, “So what had you so spooked?”

“You were right when you said my world view was shaken... Do you know why?” Derek shook his head in answer, so Peter continued, “Because I saw the future that night.  I knew that boy wasn’t the first of his kind or the last...  It was proof that Humans were evolving.  And if they were evolving into something more powerful, how would we stand against them?  We’d lose our advantages!  I had recommended that we kill the boy and make it look like an animal attack, but Talia insisted we get him home where he would be safe and cared for.  She didn’t see the danger he presented.  She didn’t see that there would be a new world order.  And werewolves?  We wouldn’t be at the top of it...  And look what’s happened out there...”

“What are you saying?”

“You said you had a few questions... I’ve answered more than a few,” he turned away.  

“Peter!”

“Remember when you get my books, make sure they’re paperbacks or they won’t let me have them...”

“I’m not done!”

Peter’s head tilted, “And no stories that are too violent.  They’ll worry if I get too stimulated.”

Derek suddenly blurted, “What do you know about True Mates?” it wasn’t what he wanted to ask, but then there it was, hanging in the air between them.

His uncle paused, then turned around slowly, his smirk curling his lip and his eyes twinkling with glee, “Ooooo... now _that_ is an interesting subject.” He walked towards the glass wall, “Why are you asking about that?” his head turned slightly, while his eyes remained on Derek.

“I’m doing research for a friend.”

“Li-ar...” he sang, “You should know better.”

Derek frowned, “I just want to know...”

“And I want to know why,” his eyes lit up, “Has someone found their one true love?  McCall?  Perhaps that puppy Liam?  Or maybe... it’s you,” his head tilted, “It is...  Have you found your one True Mate, nephew?”

“I didn’t say that I did.”

“Oooooh, but you don’t have to.  I can see it.” He grinned, “Isn’t that just... _adorable_.” 

Swallowing down a million things he wanted to say, he managed, “So what do you know?”

“Oh no, I don’t think so,” his uncle shook his head, “I’m not telling you anything,” Peter was enjoying this way too much.  “Not till you bring her here.  I want to see her.” 

“What?  No!” he growled.

“If you want me to tell you anything about True Mates, then I want to see the her.  Otherwise...” He shrugged before he spun on his heel to walk back to his book pile.  After snatching one of the paperbacks up he said, “It’s been a lovely visit Derek.  I do hope you’ll come again.” then crossed to his bed to sit down.  

“Peter--”

“Now I’m very tired...  And I have nothing more to say to you Derek.”

 

*************************

 **Four Years and Three Months Ago**  

Awareness came again and his lungs expanded more easily than before, taking in the air and releasing it with ease.  There was a distant memory of burnt flesh on his skin, but it was growing further away as his body healed.  His face still felt tight from the heat, as did many places on his body, but there was also the cool night air, soothing him.  A hand touched his cheek and his eyes startled open, “Shhh... Easy Derek... It’s just me.”  His vision was blurry at first, but it came into focus slowly, forming familiar shapes that came together to form a picture.

“St--“ his throat closed up suddenly and he coughed.  The edge of pain aching in his chest.

“Easy...  Easy... Yeah... It’s me.” His features had been pinched and tight, but now relaxed, his lips pulling into a small smile. “Scared the hell out of me...” His hand stroked Derek’s face, brushed back some sweat dampened hair.

Confused, Derek looked around.  The night sky spread overhead, a blanket of blue-black pierced with pinpoints of light.  He was laying on the ground, sparse bits of grass around, twigs and stones scattered about.  

“Dad and I pulled you out of the fire.” Stiles answered the unspoken questions that had been playing in Derek’s eyes, “Dragged your heavy ass as far as I could from the distillery.”  The young man’s face was sweaty and dirty, his clothes sooted and dirty.

“Fire--” he croaked.

“Right now, Beacon Hills’ finest are handling that,” He lifted his hand to show his cell phone, “I’ve been keeping Dad up to date on things.”

Derek closed his eyes and nodded, acknowledging that he had heard the young man.  “The chains...?”

“Uh... I saw some, but... Were you in them?”

The werewolf’s brows furrowed as he gazed up at Stiles, “Yes.”

“Dude,” he shrugged and shook his head, “I...” he made a face, “I think... you broke your hands and got out of them.  Did... you not notice you broke your hands? I thought it was just... I didn’t know.”

He shook his head in answer.  The whole thing was a blur of noise screaming in his head.  Too loud... Too loud...  His heart rate started to speed up and his chest constricted, cutting off the precious air from his lungs.

“Hey, hey...” Stiles sat up, “No, no... Don’t do that.  It's okay.  You’re fine now.  Don’t think about it.” His eyes widened, “Breath in through your nose with me... 1...  2...  Breathe out through your mouth... 1...  2... Match your breath with mine... Breathe in...  1...  2...  Breathe out... 1... 2...  Now Breath in... 1... 2... 3... 4...  And out... 1... 2... 3... 4...”

Derek did as he was told, focusing on the young man’s face, the pale skin and beauty marks, the upturned nose and the brown eyes with their unkept arch of brows over them.  They were familiar and safe.  Safe was what he wanted.  He was safe with Stiles...  Always safe with him.

It didn’t take long for him to breathe on his own, but he felt shaky.  Carefully, he slid his arms back and pushed himself up so he was no longer laying down.  He dragged his eyes down along his body, noticing that there wasn’t much of his clothes left and what remained was charred and blackened.  There was a jacket over his lap, which he guessed was Stiles’.  The skin he could see was an angry red, some few areas still transforming from the warped state of burnt flesh to the more normal smooth surface as it healed.  

“What happened?  Who did this to you?  Was it Hunters?”

“Gerard...” speaking was easier now.  It didn’t feel like a knife was shoved in his throat every time he tried to say something.

“What?” Stiles gawped, “Are you serious?”

He nodded tiredly.

“Shit.” the young man got up and started pacing, “He locked you up in there!?” 

Instead of answering, Derek simply watched the other run his hands through his hair before jumping to his feet.  “He was going to...God Derek!” Whatever else Stiles meant to say was lost in some random rambling where every other word was a curse.  Finally he stopped and pulled out his phone, “I’ve gotta call Scott--”

“No!” Derek shouted and Stiles stopped opening his contacts to stare at him in confusion, “Don’t... Gerard... wants to...  to kill him.” He swallowed hard panting through the words, “Scott is safer... in Fresno.” the last thing he wanted was for Scott to be put in danger... As an Alpha, Scott had proven himself time and time again... and he was good person.  An _actual_ good person.  

For a moment, he thought Stiles was going to agree with him, the young man looking off in the distance where the distillery was releasing huge black clouds of smoke, but then he said, “No, I’ve... I’ve gotta tell him.”

“Stiles!”

“No, Derek, listen,” he strode over and knelt next to him, “If Gerard is after Scott, we already know he isn’t above threatening the people Scott loves.  If Scott doesn’t come here, then Gerard’ll just grab Melissa or maybe he’ll go to Fresno.  I call him and warn him, then he comes in prepared and ready.  We can get Melissa to safety and do something rather than waiting for Gerard to do something worse than what he’s already done.”

It made sense, he had to admit it.  So he just nodded and listened as Stiles began making his calls.  He barely registered the conversation with Scott... then Liam and Melissa.  The last person was his Dad.  

Derek was exhausted.  It was pulling at him with tiny hooks, but the fear was pumping his blood too quickly through his veins, making it almost impossible to think of any sleep.  Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees and then lifted shaky hands to cover his face.  He knew he was keeping everything at bay, but it was all waiting to pounce on him and drag him down.  

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - April**

“I think the teenager might have been... something like a Sentinel.” 

They were sitting in Ozzie’s at the bar, sharing a drink after the Sheriff’s shift.  “ _Something like_?”

It was Saturday night and Ozzie’s was pretty full, mostly with people there for Karaoke night.  There was a table of Woo girls behind them who shouted ‘WOOOO’ every time one of them went up to sing and he was more than grateful when they all had finished their turns on stage and settled in to just drink.  So far, there had been a lot of bad singing and some okay singing - all of it made Derek wince.  But the upside to the noise was that his conversation with Stilinski was kept relatively private.

Derek had been thinking about the case a lot since his talk with Peter.  He knew there were things his uncle hadn’t told him, but there was enough that got him thinking.  “Maybe a Guide?”

“What makes you think that?” 

“I spoke to Peter about it.”

“Oh...” the Sheriff was less than thrilled with Peter - which was understandable.  “How’d that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Derek sighed, “But after I talked to him, I started looking into similar stories online... Peter said that this kid was reading minds and spouting whatever he got from the people around him, but he wasn’t really all there.  But he was sure he was human.”

“And you think it might have been a Guide?”

“I don’t know, is that even possible?”

Stilinski crossed his arms on the worn wood of the bar, his brow furrowing, “I haven’t heard of that before, but... I suppose so.  But reading minds?  I don’t know if Guides do that.”

Derek conceded that point with a nod, “If Guides could, I don’t think it would be public knowledge.  People are already jumpy with Sentinels.  Can you imagine if they were aware that Guides could read their thoughts?”

“God, there’d be witch hunts.” the Sheriff rubbed his face then took a gulp of beer.  “So... a Feral Guide...”

“Is there someone you can ask?” 

He shrugged, “My liaison at the Recovery Center.  Of course, if they are covering up that sort of thing, I can’t imagine they’ll be forthcoming with information.  Still, worth a try.”

Derek nodded in agreement, a distant scent tickling his sense.  His eyes trailed over the rest of the room and then he saw the source - Samantha of course.  She was sitting at a table near the karaoke stage, Darryl sitting next to her.  His arm was draped over her chair and he was leaning into her while she continued talking to the person on the other side of her.  There was no reason for the growl in his throat that wanted to come out, but it didn’t mean that Derek didn’t want to storm over there and shove the guy into a wall.

 “Did Peter say what happened to the kid?” the Sheriff asked.

Derek had a hard time pulling his eyes away to return his attention to Stilinski, “He didn’t really know.  He _said_ he was told the boy was taken home...”

“But it’s Peter and you have to take everything he says with a grain of salt.”

With a small smile, Derek nodded.  

“Well, at least it’s a lead...  Might actually get somewhere.  It would be nice to have a win...”

 

“You should have told me you were there!” Samantha says when he mentioned seeing her at Ozzie’s.

“I didn’t want to bother you.  You were there with your friends.” he shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee.  Derek wants to ask if Darryl is her boyfriend.  

He doesn’t.

“It wouldn’t have been a bother,” she rolls her eyes, “Honestly Derek.  Next time feel free to wave or something...  We go there the first Saturday of every month.” Her eyes narrowed, “You do know I consider you a friend... right?  I don’t just have my coffee with just anyone.”

“You don’t have coffee.  You have chai lattes.” he points out, smirking.

“You know what I mean.” 

“I do.”

“Sorry, I’m being pushy... I should let you read your book.”

“No.  I don’t mind.  It’s fine.”

 

The liaison informed the Sheriff there were no records of any Feral Guides.

 

*************************

 **Four Years and Four Months Ago**  

Time still made no impact on him, so he had no idea how long he sat like that, till a hand touched his shoulder, making him jump and drop his hands to see Stiles’ worried face.

“If you can stand, Dad is going to meet us down the road.”

Weary to the bone, Derek nodded and pushed himself up to his feet, feeling his body sway.  Stiles was there, putting steadying hands on his shoulder to keep him upright.  When he felt he could manage it, Derek took a step, Stiles staying beside him.  Everything ached - muscles, joints, even his skin, but he managed it, walking carefully where he was gently directed.  His limbs felt trembly and unsure - like they weren’t really attached to his body.  When the road came into view, Stiles jogged ahead to wave down his Father’s cruiser.  Sheriff Stilinski set his car in park before hopping out and heading to the trunk.  From the back, he pulled out a blanket that he carefully set over the werewolf’s shoulders, “There you go son...  Stiles open the back door for him.” The young man did that, then stepped back so his Father could help Derek get in.  Once they’d settled him in the car, the Sheriff gestured for Stiles to sit in the passenger’s side and then got behind the wheel to drive off.

“Where are we going?” Derek asked softly, gazing at the Stilinski men in the front seat through the grating. 

The Sheriff answered, “We’re taking you home.  To our house.  I have some clothes that might work for you.  Once I drop you off, I’ll have to head out again because of the fire...  Now Stiles said it was Gerard that did this?”

Derek nodded, then realized the man might not see it, “Yes...” it was hard to lift his eyes, so he just stared at his lap where his hands were sitting limply.  Everything smelled like smoke...

“Damn it...” he growled, “Stiles, call Argent.  He needs to get his ass back here A.S.A.P.  I don’t care where he is or what he’s doing.  You tell him that.” The Sheriff was definitely furious from the tone of his voice, “Argent said Gerard was dead!  If I find out that he had any idea his psychopath of a father was alive, I will personally shoot out both his kneecaps.”

Stiles dialed the number, but Derek could hear it go to voice mail.  The teenager sighed then left a message, “Hey Chris... it’s Stiles.  Yeah, so...  Your Dad is here.  All alive and not dead.  Let me make that more clear.  Gerard is alive, in Beacon Hills and wants to kill Scott.”

“He’s a werewolf,” Derek muttered.

“Wait... what?” He could feel Stiles eyes on him. 

“He’s a werewolf,” he repeated louder, “Wants t’be an Alpha...”

“Oh crap.  And he’s a werewolf.  Oh god, if he kills Scott he’ll be a crazy Alpha werewolf and my best friend will be dead!  I swear to god Chris, if you don’t call me back soon, I’m going to hunt you down and... No, _my Dad_ will hunt you down and freaking... I don’t know... Just get here!  Call!”  He flicked his phone off and dropped it aggressively onto the seat beside him.  “Are you serious?  A werewolf?”

“It’s how he... survived the cancer...  The Bite took...”

This time the Sheriff huffed, “Great.  Just what we need.  Gerard with werewolf powers.  All right... here’s what we’re doing...”

Whatever else was said, Derek didn’t hear it.

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - May**

Derek wants to ask her, _“Do you feel anything around me or am I the only one?”_ but he doesn’t.  Instead he asks her if she’s read anything interesting lately and Samantha tells him about the Terry Pratchett book she’s currently on.  She notices that he seems disturbed about something and asks him about it.  Inside, he is pleased she notices, but he tells her everything is fine.  

They share inconsequential stories with each other during their time together, memories and anecdotes.  He learns that her parents are gone, lost in a car accident when she was younger and that she became a Guide when she was 19.  She moved to town when the Recovery Center was open and didn’t live in the facility like other Guides did, but in an apartment over the Beacon Hills Insurance offices down town.  He also learns that he likes her sense of humor and her ability to enjoy silence and that she doesn’t pester him with questions outside of a few conversation opening ones.

 

*************************

**Four Years and Five Months Ago**

The next thing he knew, someone was shaking his shoulder gently, calling his name, “Derek, son, we’re here.” He opened his eyes, not even realizing he’d been out.  Blinking blearily, he woke himself up more, his body more achy than before he got in the cruiser.  He braced his hands on the door frame to pull himself out, suppressing the groan that grew from the soles of his feet.  “There ya go,” The Sheriff encouraged, “Take your time.  Stiles is already in the house getting some clothes for you.”

“I’m... I’ll be fine.” Derek said softly, even if his body felt like jello. 

“I know,” he nodded, walking abreast of the werewolf, “But just humor an old man here.”

The werewolf’s lip twitched and he said nothing more, choosing instead to focus on walking up the steps and into the Stilinski house.  

Stiles was just running down the stairs, passing the last few with a jump, folded clothes in his arms.  “I found some sweats Dad.”  He extended them towards Derek, voice softening as he said “You can change in there,” he tilted his head in the direction of the bathroom.  

Derek nodded his head, not wanting to gaze into the sympathetic brown eyes that were staring back at him, like Stiles was trying to diagnose him cell by cell.  It made everything harder to push aside and forget.  Of everyone, Stiles knew the most about him... Dark secrets of his past that he wished no one knew about and had hoped no one would ever learn.  When Stiles looked at him the way he was now, Derek felt too bare and exposed.  Instinct made his shoulders curl up and hunch, like he could hide somehow from the weight of the gaze.  Sensing the discomfort he was causing, the young man broke his eyes away and turned towards his Dad, “So... you’re heading back out now?”

The Sheriff nodded, “They’ll need me there to deal with the aftermath of the fire... the investigation.  I could probably spin this as a bunch of kids messing around and it getting out of hand.  It’s a pretty well known hangout for teenagers...  Lots of empty beer bottles and cans to keep that story solid.” He frowned, “But I’m more concerned about Hunters running around... And Gerard...”

Derek shuffled down the hall, letting the voices wash over him.  He flicked on the bathroom switch and full body flinched against the bright lights, his heart stuttering in flashes of fire.  The lack of heat and pain made him ease, the memory shuffling back into his brain.  There was no fire.  It was just the overhead light in the bathroom.  He was safe.  

He could still hear the Stilinskis talking through the closed door.

“Scott texted.  He’s on the road with Kira and he’ll get here as soon as he can.” Stiles said with a frustrated sigh, “Liam is staying at home with his Dad, but has his phone close in case anything happens.  I don’t know if Gerard is aware of him, but he’s a crafty old bastard so who knows.”

“Melissa is still on duty at the hospital, but I already sent Parrish over there to keep an eye on her.”

“Yeah... That should be fine.”

“What about the others?”

“Lydia’s flight doesn’t leave Boston till tomorrow and with the winter storms on the east coast, she can’t get anything earlier... But I feel better knowing she’s no where near here right now.  And Danny isn’t scheduled to leave till Tuesday.  I haven’t told him anything about Gerard yet.  No point till it’s necessary.”

“Any word back from Chris?”

“Nothing yet...”

“Damn it...” The Sheriff swore, “He’s the one person we need to be in this right now.  It’s _his_ damn father...  And if Gerard lays another hand on you--”

“Dad, I’ll be fine.  You need to get going.”

“All right... Just, lock up behind me.  You hear anything... _Anything_ \--”

“I _know_ , I’ll call you.  Now go.  Beacon Hills needs you.” 

Derek stood in the bathroom, listening as the front door opened then closed, followed by the clicking of locks.  Stiles’ footsteps passed down the hallway, pausing at the bathroom door, then moved on.  It was clear that the younger Stilinski was locking up the rest of the house... windows and the doors, then he headed back up the stairs... Derek tracked him by sound to his bedroom.  Dresser drawers creaked open and slammed closed so the werewolf guessed Stiles was changing his clothes.  

After letting the blanket fall, he carefully pulled the remains of his shirt off and tried to fold it, then his pants.  He debated taking off his underwear, but kept them on, even if they were slightly burnt.  The mirror teased and taunted him, but he didn’t give into the urge to see what he looked like.  After Paige’s death, he took no enjoyment in seeing his reflection, because all he could see was the guilt of his own actions staring back at him.  It only got worse as the years passed and his mistakes piled up like leaves in the fall.  

He couldn’t imagine that he looked good at all at the moment.

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - June**

The first time he met her outside of the coffee shop was a strange experience.  He had grown so used to seeing her in ‘Perks and Recreation’ that seeing her outside of it was like seeing a teacher outside of school.  About the same time he noticed her, she noticed him, her eyes lighting up with recognition.  Samantha grinned and walked over, carrying a hand basket as she crossed the aisle of the outdoor Farmer’s Market, “I thought you existed just on coffee.”

He lowered his head, unable to help the shy smile on his lips before he lifted his gaze towards her, “Yes, sometimes I actually eat food.” He gestured towards her basket, “And I see you don’t live on chai lattes...”

Samantha grinned, “Nope, I’m a real live girl.  Fruits and vegetables and everything.” she bit her lip and glanced at his basket, “Oh, fresh basil?  Where did they have that?”

Derek jerked his head in the direction of the stall, “Over in the corner.”

“I haven’t gotten over there yet.  I have a slight obsession with fresh basil.”

“Oh really?” his brows rose, the corners of his lips lifting.

She blushed, “Yes, its probably unhealthy.  I would put fresh basil in everything.  Seriously, if a man wore the scent of fresh basil as cologne, I’d be his, no question.”

This time he did chuckle, “I’ll have to make note of that.”

Now she laughed, “You’re not allowed to use that against me!”

He smiled, feeling as their heartbeats pumped blood through their bodies in the same rhythm. “I promise I won’t,” he said playfully.  Was he flirting?  Was she?  Was that okay?

“You are a gentleman.  I had suspected as much when you let me sit with you at ‘Perks’.  And you cook with basil, so... lots of points from me!” she chuckled, “I... should tell you... When I first met you--”

“Get out of here you fucking freak!”

Samantha startled, as did Derek.  At the end of the stalls one man punched another straight in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground.  Samantha gasped, then was running down the aisle towards the men while everyone else gaped in surprise at the sudden burst of violence.  Derek chased after her, not sure what was going on, but not wanting her to get in the middle of it.

“We don’t want your kind here!” The guy who threw the punch kicked the man on the ground.  A few other people started moving forward, to help the guy kicking or the one down, Derek had no idea, but he noticed some pulling out cellphones to record it.  

He grabbed Samantha’s arm and yanked her to a halt.  She spun on him, “Derek!  That’s Brian!  I have to help him!”

Derek turned them so he was between her and the men, “I’ll take care of this.  You stay here and call the police!”  He handed her his basket then dove toward the fight which now had a small crowd gathering.  So far, no one had stepped in to stop it, but he suspected it was more shock and sick fascination that stopped the bystanders.  Derek swept up behind the guy and grabbed his arm to pull him back.  The man glared up at Derek and swung wide at him.  Moving quickly, the werewolf easily blocked the blow, capturing the fist in his palm.  His other hand clutched the man’s wrist then pivoted, twisting the arm behind the guy’s back and spinning him away from the Sentinel on the ground.  The guy cried out in pain and surprise, but Derek was well trained in dealing with the frail bodies of humans and knew how much pressure to apply.  “That’s enough!” he growled.

“Let me go!  I didn’t do anything wrong!” the guy yelled, struggling, though getting no where against werewolf strength. 

Instead of letting him go, Derek squeezed harder, “Give it a rest!  You need to calm down!”

“I don’t want those freaks in my town, around my children!”

“Did he attack you?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter, does it?  He’s got super senses!  He’s just one of those damn freaks!”

“You punched an unarmed man who didn’t attack you!  You don’t think maybe _you’re_ the problem?” Derek felt ill looking at the guy.  Instead of dealing with him further, he turned his head towards Brian, now trying to sit up.  His lip was split, blood dribbling from his chin.  He was wearing a black Sentinel jacket which was now stained with his own blood.  Someone from the crowd was at least kind enough to help Brian sit up straight and gathered his vegetables to put back in his bag. “You okay?”

Brian nodded, but he was obviously shaken.  He winced as he tried to get up on his own, and Derek suspected the Sentinel had a few bruised ribs from the kicks he’s gotten. “Thanks...” the Sentinel muttered.

“The police should be here soon.” Samantha said, walking up and sliding her phone into her pocket.

“They should be kicking these freaks out of here!” the original attacker shouted.

Samantha gave Derek a small sad smile then hurried over to her friend to talk to him.  

He could smell her worry, hear the rapid beating of her heart.  His instinct told him to take her away from what was upsetting her and to keep her safe, but he stayed where he was, holding the attacker pinned.  

It didn’t take long for two deputies to show up and they spotted Derek and the guy fairly easily.  The bystanders started talking all at once, excited to share their version of events - especially the ones that recorded it, offering videos as evidence - though most likely after they had already posted it to their Facebook pages and youtube.  As soon as he was released to the police the guy began shouting about pressing charges against the ‘psycho’ who assaulted him.  If it wasn’t so ludicrous, Derek would have laughed.  As it was, the officers did and explained to the man that he was in enough trouble and should keep quiet.

Samantha was still standing next to Brian and the Sentinel was appearing to be less shaky than he had been before.  She was using a napkin to dab at his lip and clean him up, talking to him softly.  

“Thanks Derek,” one of the deputies said, patting him on the shoulder, “Definitely appreciate the help.  While Ramos gets our lawyer happy guy to the cruiser, can I have you wait here so I can take your statement?”

He nodded absently, watching Samantha with Brian.  Derek could hear that most people around were feeling for the Sentinel, but there was a disturbing amount of those commenting that were in favor of the assault.  It made his stomach turn.

 

In the end, Brian didn’t press charges against the man who assaulted him, choosing to not escalate the problem further.  Derek wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not, but it wasn’t his decision to make.   

After that first time, he and Samantha started meeting at the Farmer’s Market once a week to shop together and he made sure to always get fresh basil.  

 

************************

**Four Years and Six Months Ago**

The clothes Stiles gave him were a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt.  They were soft, well worn, and comfortable - just what he needed.  Derek decided to leave his feet bare instead of using the socks he was given.  There was something about feeling the cool tile under his soles that made him feel more... grounded.  Gathering his old clothes and the blanket his hand grasped the door knob to leave the bathroom.  He gasped for air, his chest feeling like steel bars were clasped around him, preventing him from inhaling enough to breathe.  With a jerk, he released the doorknob, his hand shaking and his vision dimming.

“Hey Derek... I’m going to make some coffee.  If you want any, let me know.” Stiles called, “Or tea... whatever.  Or maybe you want something cold, not hot.  Crap... You know what I mean...”

His chest eased, the air returning and the shaking fading to something more manageable.  He was safe with Stiles.  Derek took a deep breath, then another and exited the confines of the bathroom.  After setting his clothes and the folded blanket on the bottom steps, he followed the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat towards the kitchen.  The young man was just clicking on the coffee machine, before he reached to the overhead cabinet to get some mugs.  He saw Derek and managed a small smile, “Well, they fit okay...  I figured they’d be loose enough to work.” Lifting the mugs slightly he asked, “So... did you want anything?”

“Tea... is fine.” 

“Right,” Stiles nodded, setting the mugs on the counter.  Reaching back up in to the cabinet he pulled down some different colored boxes, “Um... I’ve got English Breakfast, Earl Grey, some weird herbal stuff I got when I was uh... having trouble sleeping,” he glanced up at Derek self consciously.  There was no point in specifying the time he was referring to.  “And this uh rooibos stuff?  I think its decaf.”

“The English Breakfast is fine.”

Derek remained in the doorway while Stiles got the tea kettle on the stove and turned the burner on.  While Stiles chose a teabag to drop into one of the mugs he asked, “Milk or sugar in that?  Both?”

“No, plain is fine.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and set his hands on his hips, “Tea is fine... English Breakfast is fine... plain is fine... Everything is fine... Derek... Come on.” His voice was soft though, not accusing or angry... more like a gentle nudge to encourage conversation.

Only that’s really the last thing Derek wanted to do.  

“Derek... are you okay?”

“I’m...” he stalled.  The words _I’m fine_ dying on his tongue, burning away in tiny embers.  His jaw clenched as he swallowed hard, trying to figure out what he wanted to say... how he could say it.  “I’ll be... okay.”  

And then those eyes were on him, the color of honey whiskey and opening him up so that there was nothing to hide and nothing to hide behind.  It was too much.  Stepping back from the kitchen entryway, Derek retreated into the living room.  He sat down on the couch, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and clasping his hands between them.   

Derek had been through so many different hells... different tortures... different pains... and out the other side.  He’d come to a realization after speaking with his Mother’s spirit that he had survived everything for a reason.  He was alive for a reason.  Even if he never saw it and didn’t understand it.  He had eventually found a peace within himself...  It was part of a lot of changes he’d gone through in that time...  a lot of lessons.  It had lead to his evolving and he thought it had washed away so much of the past that clung to him.

But it didn’t matter now.  Because in the back of his head was the screaming and the smoke and the burning...  His hands were jittery again.

“Hey Derek...”

He lifted his head to see Stiles standing next to him in front of the couch, holding out a mug, his expression soft.  Derek reached up and accepted it, quickly getting his fingers around the handle.  Stiles sat down next to him, but kept a good distance between them.  He noted that the youth had his own mug, holding it by the handle and resting it on his knee, the scent of coffee wafting from it.  The silence passed between them, marked by the ticking of the second hand by the clock on the wall till finally Stiles blurted, “I’m sorry.” the coffee in his cup sloshed dangerously close to the edge.  The way that he puffed out his cheeks, like he was holding his breath made Derek think that there was a lot more that Stiles actually wanted to say, but was holding it all back.

Derek was sure there was plenty Stiles could say.  If there was one thing the other was not shy of, it was words, but he was clearly holding back in deference to him.  “How did your finals go?”

This obviously wasn’t what Stiles was expected as he let out a noisy huff of air which transformed into a humorless chuckle, “I’m pretty sure I aced my tests.”

“That’s good.”

Stiles glanced over at him, then smirked, “Yeah well... its amazing how much studying you get done when you aren’t running around in the middle of the night after werewolves.”

Huffing softly, Derek nodded, letting the silence flow back in between them, the quiet less stressful than it was previously.  

 

************************

**Four Years Later - July**

“Sticking with the hot coffee?” Samantha asked as she sat down across from him.  In her hand was a cold cup - the familiar cream color of her chai latte broken up by the opacity of ice cubes bouncing around.  

“It works for me.” he set his book down, but had honestly stopped reading as soon as she had entered the coffee shop.  His gaze raked over her briefly, taking in the simple summer dress.  It occurred to him that she didn’t wear a lot of flowery items and he wondered if it was because she was a Guide and most things had to be kept simple, or if it was just a choice.  Not that Derek had any cause to judge, considering his wardrobe consisted mostly of jeans and Henleys of varying shades that differed more in their sleeve length depending on the weather.

“I’m surprised your eyes aren’t brown from all that coffee,” she ripped the top of the paper for her straw and pulled it from its wrapper before laughing softly, “Though, that’s the wrong part of the saying.” She stabbed her straw into the top of her cup.

“What?” his brows came together.

Pink tinged her cheeks as her nose wrinkled, “It was something my Dad used to say.  Um... If someone was lying or trying to put one over on him, he’d tell them they were so full of shit their eyes should be brown.” 

Derek chuckled, his smile wide, “I guess I should be thankful my eyes aren’t brown then.”  

Samantha shook her head her expression moving into something softer, “Your eyes aren’t brown but they’re like, every other color.  Honestly, I still have no idea what color they are.  What does your Driver’s License say?  Hair... black, Eyes... whatever they feel like?” She took a sip of her iced drink.

He didn’t know where it came from... maybe the banter or he was just in a good mood, but he teased, “So... you stare at my eyes a lot then?”

Choking a bit on her drink she sat up. It took a moment, but when she recovered she said, “Of course I look at your eyes.  I’m very respectful!  It would be rude to be looking at your chest while talking to you.”

They’d been doing more talking lately at the table.  There were times that Samantha didn’t even pull the files or notebook out of her messenger bag and days like today when it wasn’t even with her.    

“Thank you for not objectifying me.”

“You’re welcome.” She responded demurely before laughing lightly, “Are you going to see the fireworks tonight?”

Derek shrugged.  When he was little, his family didn’t go.  Instead they had a big barbecue in the back yard with games and more food than a normal person would ever eat.  At night, they’d toast marshmallows and watch the fireworks from the yard, laying on blankets.  He’d asked his mother why they didn’t go to the fireworks and watch them with the rest of the Beacon Hills residents, and she explained that it was too loud there - especially for the little ones.  As he’d gotten older - old enough to make his own decisions about some aspects of his life, Talia allowed him to go so he could hang out with his friends.  But that had been more about posturing and ‘being cool’ than watching the spectacle of the fireworks.  

Since coming back to Beacon Hills, Derek hadn’t been to any of the town celebrations. 

“Probably not.  I used to go years ago.  When I was younger.”

Samantha nodded, “You’ve lived here all your life.”

“Most of it.” his head tilted in question because he felt like she knew that without him telling her.

She shifted in her chair, “Maureen might have mentioned that your family was well established here...” 

“Ah...” he nodded and glanced down at the cover of his book - ‘The Kite Runner’ this week.  The gossip had reached her.

“I’m sorry... that was invasive.”

His eyes lifted, “Your Guide powers tell you that?” the bitterness crept into the edges of his words, even though he tried to hold it back.

Samantha sat back a bit, unconsciously putting distance between them and Derek clenched his jaw.  He didn’t want that, but there were some things that set his walls up before he realized it.  Anything alluding to his family was one.  She sighed, “I... don’t do that.” her fingers were absently wiping at tracks of condensation on her cup, “When I’m outside of my work, I don’t act as a Guide... I don’t try to sense people’s emotions.”

It was the first time they really spoke about her abilities and he was both interested and unhappy about it.  Sure, he was curious, but this wasn’t the way he wanted to discuss it.  There was also the fact that he had felt like he was cheating with her - aware of her tells, her scent, her heartbeat... reading her when she was not doing the same.  Obviously he went through his life reading the people around him - it was part of his being a werewolf - using his senses, but with her, it suddenly felt different... 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything.”

She shook her head, shoulders relaxing, “No, you didn’t.  I mean, you sort of did, but I know you didn’t mean to.  I’m sorry if I got personal in the conversation.  I spend so much time talking at the Recovery Center, you’d think I would be better at it.”  Her eyes dropped and her form slumped in dejection.

Before he knew what he was doing he slid his hand across the table to brush his fingers against hers, just wanting to assure her, but he wasn’t ready for how it sent a spark up his arm.  Derek jerked his hand back and noticed Samantha jumped in her seat too.  She blushed brightly as she sat up and he scented a flurry of emotions from her before she said, “Sorry!  Didn’t realize there was so much static electricity.” 

But it wasn’t static that caused that reaction.

“So... People talking about me?” he asked quickly to redirect her attention.

With a guilty look, she nodded, “Gossip mostly about you and your family.  But I don’t want to talk about things you don’t want to talk about.”

The front door opened and Darryl entered with some people that Derek recognized from Ozzie’s the night he saw them at karaoke.  Some went to the counter to order, Darryl and the man he recognized as Brian walked over to the table.  The wounds the Sentinel had gotten had pretty much healed up, signs of the assault vanishing.

“Hey Sammy,” Darryl smiled before leaning over to give her a one armed hug.  She accepted it, but didn’t return the embrace.  The man stood up and smiled at Derek, “And you again... Uh...”

“Derek.”

“He’s the one that helped me out,” Brian smiled, “Really appreciate that by the way.  I don’t think I got to properly thank you, with all the questions and stuff with the police afterwards.”

Derek shook his head, “Don’t mention it.”

“So this is the guy, hunh?” Darryl gave Derek an appraising look before his gaze returned to Samantha, “Looks like someone was trying to impress the ladies.” he smirked.

Derek really didn’t like Darryl.

Brian lightly punched the other man in the shoulder, “He saved my ass... The guy’s a hero.” then he turned to Derek and offered his hand, “Thanks again.”

Taking the offer, Derek shook Brian’s hand and nodded, though he felt uncomfortable being thanked for helping someone who needed it like that.  He would like to have thought that someone else would have stepped in, but based on what he sensed and heard that day, it might not have been likely... Which made him more uncomfortable.

“Well Mr. Hero,” Darryl drawled, “Thanks for saving our friend Brian here...  These Omegas...  What’s the joke?  They have one heightened sense and no sense at all anywhere else.” He ruffled the Sentinel’s hair and Derek could feel Brian’s embarrassment though he smiled and played it off.  With a muttered goodbye, Brian went to the counter to order his drink.

Samantha was frowning, “That joke is really old Darryl.” 

“Oh whatever... he’s fine.  Don’t be so sensitive.” he winked at Derek like they were in on some joke between them.  “So, you joining us later at the fireworks?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, we’re going to head to the Square and see some of the stuff going on.  Want to come?”

“Um... no,” She shrugged, “I was out earlier in the heat and I need some time in some air conditioning. ” 

From the counter, one of the woman called out that they were ready to go and lifted up a cold drink towards Darryl from the doorway.  “All right.  If you change your mind you know where to find us.” Then he opened his arms up for an embrace.  When Samantha didn’t get up he asked, “What?  No goodbye hug?”

“It’s hot--”

“Geez, it’s just a hug.  Can’t I give my friend a hug goodbye?”

Samantha sighed and rose from her seat and his arms immediately came around her to hug her, his hand rubbing her back three times before he stepped back.  “See you later.”

“All right... Be good.” Darryl grinned and then waved at Derek before following his friends out the door.  

When she sat back down, Derek said, “So... Darryl is... your boyfriend?”

“What? No,” her eyes widened.

“So the hugging thing?”

Her shoulders lifted and dropped in a shrug, “Darryl is just really affectionate.  He hugs a lot.” 

“But... you don’t like it.”

The blue eyes darted up towards him suddenly and she wrinkled her nose slightly, “Is it that obvious?”

It was Derek’s turn to shrug, “It is to me,” he leaned forward, “If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t do it.”

After a heartbeat or two, she shook her head, with an embarrassed smile, “It’s really not a big deal.” She used her straw to spin the ice around in her drink, “So, the fireworks, are you going?”

It was tempting to go... but he and Samantha weren’t technically anything - maybe friends.  Maybe.  

_True Mates._

“No...  I don’t like fireworks all that much.” his eyes darted up towards hers then dropped.

“Well, why don’t we do something else?”

Derek furrowed his brow, “But you have plans with your friends.”

Samantha shrugged, “All they’re going to do is sit outside and watch the fireworks while drinking lukewarm beer.  I’ve done that before,” She grinned and poked at some ice in her cup with the straw, “Unless you have plans which is fine, because then I’ll just go to the fireworks anyway.” 

“No... uh,” he shook his head, “That’s fine.” 

The smile he gets in return is blinding, “So, what shall we do?”

At first, Derek drew a blank, because he was just going to spend the holiday in his loft.  But he recalled McCall mentioning a barbecue at his mother’s house. “How do you feel about going to a barbecue where you don’t know anyone?”

 

Samantha did know the Sheriff and Parrish who are at the gathering and, it turns out, she knew Scott.  Derek had completely forgotten about her reason for being at the clinic that day - She’d been asking about the Nemeton.  Scott spoke softly so only Derek would hear and explained how he and Deaton convinced her the Nemton was just a local legend and that seemed to placate her curiosity.  

During the evening, Derek spent a lot of time telling everyone that he and Samantha were just friends, though Melissa kept giving him meaningful glances and the Sheriff kept smirking.

When night fell, Derek found Scott sitting off on his own in the backyard.  Easing down next to him, Derek handed him a beer that wouldn’t get him drunk, because he didn’t know what to say to the heartbroken Alpha.

“I screwed it all up.” Scott finally said, sorrow rolling off of him in waves. “I feel like I should have seen things coming... Or maybe I did and I just chose to ignore it.”

“Scott, if there is one thing I know about you... you don’t hurt the people you love on purpose.  It’s not all over.  Tomorrow you’ll start over again like everyone else...  With a chance to try to fix things and do better.”

The young man rolled his head to look at the older werewolf, “You sound like Ben Kenobi or something.”

Derek chuckled softly, “Finally saw Star Wars then?”

Scott laughed softly and gazed up at the sky, “Yeah... Figured I owed it to him.” Silence followed, as if they needed it in place of mentioning their missing friend.  Then he asked, “So... what’s with you and her?”

“Nothing.  We’re just friends.”

“Oh.”

“What?” Derek glared.

Scott made a bit of a face, “Well, I never got a chance to talk to you about it, but when you two met in the clinic that time?  I felt something.  Like... an energy or something.  It was weird.”

Derek’s eyes widened, “You felt something?”

“Yeah dude, I got goosebumps.  You felt something that day too, didn’t you?” he stared at Derek in accusation and when the older werewolf didn’t answer, he rolled his eyes, “You did!  Why didn’t you say anything?”

With a frown Derek gazed at the grass between his feet, “Because I wasn’t sure what happened. I’d never felt like that before.  I didn’t know what to say and after our argument, I... wasn’t sure I _should_ say anything.”

Scott sat up now, “Derek...” whatever he was going to say died on his lips as he took in the way the older man was hunched, “Look, whatever happened... it’s done now.  I’m still your friend, I told you.  And this sort of feels important.  Is it?  Important I mean.”

“I’m not sure.  Chris... I asked him to look into it and he...” Derek clasped his hands between his knees, “He thinks she’s my True Mate.” It’s the first time he’s said it out loud to anyone and it feels right to say it, even if the connotation is really too big to contemplate.

“True Mate?” Scott asks, saying the phrase like he’s tasting it on his tongue.  “What does it mean...”

“If what Chris says is true?  That Samantha is genetically my... perfect other half I guess.”

“Is that a thing?”

“Apparently.”

“Wow... Does she know?”

Derek rolled his eyes at the young man.

Scott looks a little embarrassed by the question, “Right... So... uh.  What are you going to do?”

He sighed deeply and leaned back on his hands to stare up towards the stars, “I don’t know.”

“Do you like her?”

“I don’t know.”

The quiet settled around them with the murmur of distant conversations and crickets.  

Not too long after, the fireworks began to explode in the sky, the sound was loud, thundering in Derek’s chest as the lights blossomed in the sky and then fizzled away. 

 

*************************

**Four Years and Seven Months Ago**

His senses felt wide open, hyper aware of the house, every creak and moan, each tap of the pipes - the night noises outside, cars passing on the street, the trees swaying in the breeze, branches scratching against the siding.  It’s why he was able to pick out the sound that didn’t fit in all of that.  Footsteps crunching leaves, the clicks of weapons unlocking, leather stretching.

“Stiles.” 

“Hmm?”

“Call your Dad.  Now.”

“What?” Confused as Stiles was, he leaned forward and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

“Hunters.” Derek sat up, setting his untouched cup of tea on the coffee table. 

“Crap,” his fingers fumbled on the screen as he got up.

That’s when the window broke, something flying through to bounce along the floor onto the living room, smoke trailing out of it.  Recognizing it immediately, the werewolf was up, “Stiles, _move_!” he shoved the boy ahead.

Limbs flailing, Stiles scrambled to do what he was told, heading towards the front door.  Purple smoke exploded out of the bomb, quickly filling the living room behind them.

Stiles reached the front door and swung it open, only to be stopped by the tall figure of a man holding a gun aimed right at him.  With a yelp, Stiles jumped back, arms flying up instinctually as his body gave off a flair of fear.  Derek didn’t stop, shifting to his beta form as he tackled the man through the door and down the porch steps.  They rolled along the grass for a bit, but the werewolf used the momentum to toss the Hunter into a tree, knocking him out.  More men came out of the night shadows and Derek had to keep moving, rolling to his feet and running, while gunfire following each step to send small explosions of dirt behind his bare feet.

He managed to get into a shadowy patch, making it impossible to be seen and giving him space to circle around to take down another Hunter with a punch to the throat and then slamming him on the back of the head to knock him out.  After taking down two more, he noticed the light on the porch was blocked.  He glanced up to see a Hunter standing on the porch, searching the lawn and the surrounding trees for him.  The man didn’t notice Stiles stepping out of the house and swinging his baseball bat into his unprotected head.  The Hunter fell senseless to the porch floor, except now Stiles was in clear view and a perfect target.

“Get down!” Derek yelled, spotting a Hunter taking aim with a rifle at Stiles.  He ran and knocked the weapon off target.  The bullet blasted the porch post near Stiles’ head, sending wooden splinters and pieces flying and the young man threw himself backwards.  Derek backed off a step then grabbed the Hunter by the jacket he was wearing to ram him into a tree then punch him out.  There was no time to wait - he had to keep moving or they’d take him down - or worse, Stiles.

“Stiles go!  Get out of here!” he shouted, running to take down another Hunter.  

In the shadows, he heard the bullets tearing into the trees, the ground at his feet, but he was too fast for human reflexes with the shadows made him hard to spot.  Derek could only hope that Stiles had been smart enough to get in his jeep and drive the hell away.  He ran towards the back of the house, trying to draw the Hunters with him and away from the younger man.  It was all he could do in the moment.  

Just as he rounded the edge of the house to the backyard, something slammed into him, sending him flying.  Twisting his body, Derek landed on in a crouch, eyes flashing as they darted to spot what hit him, growling.  

He was met with a growl in return and the hunched form of Gerard in his own beta form, blue eyes flaring and teeth bared, “Not the only wolf in the woods tonight Derek!” he grinned before going in for another attack.  

Derek blocked his arm and slashed his claws down Gerard’s chest, then he elbowed the old man in the face.  While Argent was a werewolf, he wasn’t young and not as used to his abilities - Derek had been a werewolf all his life and was well versed in fighting as one now.  Both clawed hands dug into Gerard’s chest to lift him up before slamming him down into the ground, forcing blood to cough up out of the old man’s mouth. 

Gerard started laughing, blood staining his sharp teeth, “You forgot... I’m not alone.”

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - August**

Something was wrong.  

It woke him up out of a dreamless sleep.

Immediately, he checked his loft then went through his entire building, searching for something that might be amiss - a stray scent, a strange sound... But there as nothing.  He felt more and more anxious, his fingers itching as his claws ached to slide out.  His tongue ran over the flat surface of his teeth that threatened to grow into fangs.  If he glanced in a reflective surface, Derek was sure his eyes would be flashing blue.

_Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong.  Wrong._

His phone didn’t have any messages so he sent a text to Scott, Melissa, Liam, Jordan, Deaton, and the Sheriff - all saying the same: _Are you okay?_

It took a while, but a trilling alert came back to him with varying answers that all said the same thing.  Everyone was fine.  Then he got a text from the Sheriff:

 **From - Stilinski 3:15 a.m:** _I am fine. Situation with a guide._

His chest tightened and he was running to the station.

When he got there, he pushed through the doors and headed towards the bull pen.  Immediately his eyes landed on Samantha, sitting in the chair next to Greenberg’s desk, hands clutching a styrofoam cup of coffee, wearing a tank top, black yoga pants and flip flops.  Her face was paler than normal and there was a large bandage on her cheek.  The Sheriff was standing in the doorway of his office, arms crossed and looking on the small scene angrily, but Derek didn’t sense the anger was directed at her or Greenberg.  

Samantha’s eyes drifted and landed on Derek, before lighting up.  He managed a small smile of support crossing the station floor to Greenberg’s desk.  Ignoring the deputy, he knelt down beside her, “You okay?”

“Yeah... I’m fine.” When Derek’s eyes darted towards her bandaged cheek she added, “I was near the window when the rock crashed through.  A piece of glass cut my cheek.”

“Rock?” He frowned and looked over his shoulder at the Sheriff.

Stilinski dropped his arms, “Derek, why don’t we let Greenberg finish his interview and you and I talk real quick.” He glanced up at Samantha and gave her an encouraging lift of his lips.

Derek was torn, his desire to remain by her side and see that she was safe - protect her - was so strong his bones were vibrating.  He looked back at her and she gave a nudge of her arm at him, “Go on... I’ll be ok.”

He nodded, “Don’t drink the coffee... It’s basically tar with milk in it.” 

Samantha snorted in what should have been a completely unattractive way and covered her nose and mouth with her hand as she tried to adjust to whether she was going to cry and laugh.  The latter won out and she nodded, “Okay... Go on...” She nudged him again.  Reluctantly he joined Stilinski in his office.  

The Sheriff shut the door quietly and turned to Derek with his intense blue eyes. “Now, I’m not going to ask you why you’re here or how you knew anything was wrong.”  Derek frowned, about to speak, but the older man held up a hand to stop him then sighed and put his hands on his hips, “Someone threw two rocks through her apartment window, shattering the glass.  Hence the, uh,” he gestured towards his cheek, “Cut, which luckily wasn’t very deep and didn’t need stitches.  They also apparently spray painted ‘Bitch Freak’ on the wall of her building too.”

“What?” Derek growled, his eyes shifting as his claws extended.  

“Hey!” the Sheriff barked then lowered his voice, “Don’t do that... werewolf stuff in here!” his whispered tone was harsh and he checked the large window to see if anyone was passing by to see.

Blinking, the werewolf closed his eyes and swallowed hard, taking deep breaths.  It was Samantha’s scent that drew him and he focused on it, going beyond the weariness, anxiousness and fear that was laying over her like a blanket, to the essence of what was _her_.  When his eyes opened again, they were their normal color and his fingertips were blunt and human.  “Sorry...”

Stilinski took a deep breath, “I don’t know what’s going on with you and her, but if you are losing control because of her, then you need to figure it out!  Now... at this point, we’re treating this as a hate crime.  Not too surprising with the anti-Sentinel feelings that have been going around.  My men are at her place right now, taking photos and collecting evidence.  Hopefully they’ll find something so we can arrest whoever did it and get it solved quickly.” he sighed then added, “I have to call Baldwin and let him know.”

“Baldwin?”

“Yeah... Uh Darryl Baldwin... the Recovery Center liaison.  You know him?”

Fighting the snarl on his lips, Derek nodded, “I’ve met him a few times.”  He nodded to the Sheriff, “I’ll let you make your phone call...” He left the office and knelt down next to Samantha while she continued answering questions.  The longer it went on, the more steady she was, but the more exhausted she looked.  She unconsciously pressed her leg against Derek’s shoulder and he didn’t move away.

When Gwen, one of the female deputies finally came up and told her the apartment was clear for her to return to, the sun was up.  Before she left Samantha smiled tiredly at Derek, “Thanks... See you soon?”

He nodded, hating that she was leaving and going back to a place where something bad had happened - Where she’d been made to feel afraid and that he wasn’t protecting her.  Derek knew it went beyond whatever it was that made them Mates.  The way he felt earlier, when everything had been so wrong and sent him out into the night...  He never wanted to feel that way again.  The possibilities of what could have gone wrong...  The rock could have hit her in the head, broken an arm...  The person who did it could have done something much worse...  Derek couldn’t contemplate too long on any of the myriad of small horrors his brain was producing.  Watching her leave with the deputy, he realized that he wanted things to be different between them.

 

*************************

**Four Years and Eight Months Ago**

Eyes widening, the werewolf remembered the other Hunters.  He had a second to rise to his feet before the burning sharp pain of a bullet tearing through his leg sent him crashing to the grass.  Groaning, he clutched his thigh, but there was no time to waste.  Derek scrambled to his feet, to keep moving and anther bullet pierced his left shoulder before a third shot through his calf.  His body wasn’t healing fast enough and he collapsed to the ground.  Breathing through the burning in his muscles, he started clawing his way across the grass to find a way to escape the Hunters and Gerard who was now getting up and laughing.  _Get up and run.  Get up!_   Reaching a tree, he used it to get to his feet, but a bullet tore through his gut, sending him tumbling down again.

“You must be a cat Derek!” Argent chuckled, brushing off his clothes.  

Derek wasn’t interested in the bastard’s monologue but two Hunters were now stepping from the trees, guns in hand.  There was no where for him to go.  He growled, pissed off that they’d managed to get the best of him... again... but he was relieved that Stiles had gotten away.  As pain ate at him like acid, he took comfort that he’d managed to keep Stiles safe... and that was something he could hold on to.

He pushed himself so he was on his back, huffing through the agony of his wounds and staring at the sky till Gerard was leaning over him, features human again.  Using a white handkerchief, he wiped the blood from his mouth, “My intention was to take care of the Sheriff, but imagine my surprise when I find you.  Alive and well!” his eyes trailed to the bleeding bullet holes, “Mostly well I suppose”

Blood was seeping out of him, he could feel it warm on his skin, “Your plan...” he panted, “Won’t work...  Scott...  Scott knows you’re here...” He felt some distant regret that the Sheriff’s clothes were stained.

“Doesn’t matter.  Even if I have to go through those he loves.  Maybe that little beta of his...  Liam is it?” he pulled his shirt away from his body, looking at the blood there and frowning a bit before sighing, “Pull him up.  Stevens, get the gasoline.  We’re not letting this go on chance again.”

The Hunter yanked Derek up by his left arm, making him gasp out, then held him so he was on his knees.  The other one brought over a gas canister.  The stink of gasoline flooded his nose as he was splashed with the foul smelling liquid.  Familiar terror crawled up his body.  “Just shoot me! Kill me!” Panic laced his voice. “Why this?”

“Why?” the old man sneered, “Because you destroyed my family!  It was because of you and your family that Victoria and Chris came back here.  And from the moment they stepped over county line, they signed their death certificates... Victoria, my daughter, my _granddaughter_!” He leaned in, “You should have died with your family Derek and for all your sins, you’ll burn the way you were intended to!”

After setting down the gasoline tank, the Hunter pulled out a match book.  There was little Derek could do to stop it.  _But Stiles got away..._   He gave a weak smile of relief, his head hanging weakly.

“Stop!” the familiar voice made him inwardly groan and turn to see the one person he didn’t want to.

Gerard slowly turned his head, a sick smile spreading across his face, “Mister Stilinski!  What a pleasure!”

Stiles was standing by the house, his arms raised up before him and a gun clutched in his hands.  His face was a mask of determination, “Step away from him Gerard, you crazy fuck,” he ordered through clenched teeth.

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - September**

“Ugh...” Samantha threw away the pamphlet the woman handed her when they walked out of ‘Perks and Recreation’, into the first garbage bin she saw.

Derek couldn’t blame her.  It was anti-Sentinel propaganda and was based on speculation and fear.

“Anyway,” she sighed, “You don’t know anything about her?” 

“I haven’t met her.  Scott met her on his first day of classes and offered to buy her coffee.  Her name is Jamie and she’s another Vet student.”  While he had found a new resolve in their relationship, Derek still hadn’t said anything to Samantha, unsure of how she felt about him.  It didn’t stop them from going out to have lunch a few times or even from going to the Labor Day celebrations in town or joining the Sheriff and his officers in their annual barbecue.

Samantha nodded but there’s a tension around her eyes, “I suppose I should be glad I can’t date.”

“You can’t?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not really forbidden... More frowned upon for Guides.  We’re meant to be open to Bond to Sentinels.” She shrugged, “Of course till that happens, most Guides find uh... comfort in other Guides.  They’re never emotional, just physical.  It’s just about letting off steam so to speak.”

“Okay...” Feeling his stomach drop at the thought of her... with Darryl

“I don’t do that though,” she scratched at the top of the lid of her coffee cup, “It’s not really my thing.  Darryl’s sort of... gone through the Guides and I’m apparantly just next on the list.” her nose wrinkled, “Not really how I want to engage with someone, but he keeps telling me it’s not a big deal.”

“Is the S.I. strict?” Wanting to not think about her being with anyone else.

She nodded, “More so with Guides since there are way fewer Guides than Sentinels.  They try to keep us pretty regulated in what we do to keep us safe.  For example, they’d much more prefer if I lived at the residencies at the Recovery Center rather than on my own in town.  They claim it’s for my own safety and...” she paused, her eyes growing distant for a moment before her focus sharpened again, “I guess they’re right, but I don’t want to.”

While Derek agreed with keeping her safe, he didn’t know what the Center was like, “Is it that bad there?”

Shaking her head she answered quickly, “No, not at all.  It’s actually really nice.  But it wouldn’t be _my_ own home.  _My_ space.”

Derek’s phone vibrated, the standard ring tone playing.  He frowned, not expecting a call, and pulled it out of his pocket to see it was the Sheriff.  Answering it with a terse, “Sheriff?” he glanced over at Samantha whose expression grew concerned.

“ _Derek, we have a Feral Sentinel in a neighborhood.  Down on Pineview, near Seven Trails._ ” 

“All right,” He glanced around and got his bearings, “I’m not far.  I’ll be there soon.”

“ _Jordan is already there, along with a few other deputies..._ ”

“Okay.” He ended the call and glanced over at Samantha, “I have to go.”

Her brows furrowed, “He’s calling a consultant to help so suddenly?”

Derek nodded, “I’ll see you tomorrow at ‘Perks’.”  Before she could respond, he left, jogging along the sidewalk till he was out of sight of her - then he ran full out.  

 

*************************

**Four Years and Nine Months Ago**

“Stiles... Run!” Why didn’t he get away while he could?

“Now now, we don’t want him running away,” Gerard purred. “History is repeating itself Mister Stilinski.  Here you are, trying to save your werewolf friend, threatening me...  Didn’t work too well for you the last time.”

“Except this time I have a gun,” Stiles pointed out, tilting his head slightly while he flicked the gun up before re-aiming it at Argent, “So I think I have the advantage.” His eyes flicked to the Hunters, “You two dipshits... Let him go.  Now.  Unless you want to see me aerate your boss here.”

Gerard smiled indulgently and nodded to his men, “Go ahead.  Let him go,” The Hunters did so and stepped back from Derek, who now swayed on his knees before he caught himself on his good arm wincing.

“Get out of here... Stiles...” he pleaded, knowing this couldn’t end well.  Gerard was too pleased.

“Not gonna happen Derek!” the young man replanted his feet to steady himself.  

“Oh, don’t be afraid Derek,” Gerard chuckled, “This boy isn’t going to shoot anyone.  He’s no killer.  All he’s good for, all he’s ever been good for... is bait.” The old man shrugged his shoulders, “The little boy who tries to act so smart and brave.  Didn’t Derek tell you?  I’m not human anymore...”

“Yeah, he told me.” His voice sounding bored, “Wolf’s Bane bullets baby,” he smirked.

“Very clever...” Argent smiled and turned fully towards Stiles, “You know my dear boy, you’d be amazed at how different it is on _this_ side.  How much better my senses are.  My sense of smell alone,” he tapped the side of his nose, “Why, that alone is worth the price of admission.  And do you know what I can smell right now?”

“The stench of your own self importance?” Stiles asked drolly.

“No...  I can smell the fetid stink of your own fear.”

The young man swallowed hard.

“That’s right Mister Stilinski, for all your bluster, you are rank with your own terror.  You’re nothing but a scared little boy, holding daddy’s gun and pretending to be a man!” he spat in disgust, “Trying to prove you can run with the wolves...  Do you want to know what it really takes to kill a man?”

“A desire to shut them the hell up?”

“It takes will,” Gerard sneered, “Let me show you what that is.” From under his jacket, behind his back, he pulled a gun out of a hidden holster and with his supernatural reflexes, shot the two Hunters in quick succession.  Derek flung his arm up over his head as the men fell on either side of him.  He saw Stiles staggering back, eyes wide and mouth open in shock then slowly, the young man turned his stunned gaze back at Gerard, who now had the gun aimed at Derek, “ _That_ , Mister Stilinski, is will.  _That_ is conviction.  Something you don’t have.”  He paused, “Do you know what I have in this gun?  Aconite laced bullets.  I’ll hit his heart.  I won’t miss.  And he’ll die painfully.  Maybe the spark will ignite the gasoline...  Shall we find out?  Shall we have another example of conviction?”

Stiles shook his head, lifting the gun up again to aim it at the old man, but Derek could see quaking in his arms. “Run... Go Stiles!” Derek cried, not wanting Stiles to see this happening - to witness his death.  

Gerard’s pitiless gaze was directed towards Derek, “Watch him burn Mister Stilinski!”

“NO!” Stiles shouted and the world exploded with the sound of a gunshot.

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - October**

They started adding movies to the activities they shared together - it was a compromise as far as Derek was concerned because he was not ever going to karaoke night at Ozzie’s.  They still went to the Farmer’s Market once a week, had coffee at ‘Perks’, had lunches  and took walks here and there.

There was also a lot of passing touches.  Nothing aggressive or invasive, just feather light and brief physical interactions that he felt long after the moment passed.  When he talked to Scott about all of it, the young man snorted on the phone, “You two are practically dating without dating!”

When he thought about it alone, Derek felt his heart start to race in nerves and fear.  The faces of his past would peek over his shoulder - the people he had felt responsible to and had failed, the people who had betrayed him...  But the idea of her not being around was worse than any of his fears.

He was walking her home after one of their movie nights - preferring to do that rather than have her riding her bicycle alone - talking about the film. Halloween decorations were set up all over town - jack-o-lanterns grinning on porches, scarecrows tied to lamp posts along with images of vampires and bats among other things.  Derek had a love/hate relationship with Halloween...  On the one hand, it was a fun holiday, but on the other, the whole ‘scary, monstrous, murder and mayhem’ vibe that came with it was less attractive.  Besides the fact that werewolves featured prominently in the holiday lore and none of it was close to correct.

“I can’t believe anyone was giving that movie bad reviews.” Samantha laughed, “It was great!”

“I think they were complaining about that main character not being white.”

She huffed in annoyance, “Whatever... Probably one of those white males who need to hammer things to feel all manly.”

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to a stop so she playfully swung around to meet him, “I happen to be a white male who hammers things.” His brows were raised up in question.

Samantha laughed, “You’re an advanced male.  You don’t just hammer things... you stain and varnish.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth were turned upward.  Continuing to walk, his hand still held hers and neither of them pulled their fingers apart.  They strolled, falling into a comfortable silence, the soft electricity in the warmth of her hand in his setting a pleasant rhythm for his heart and breath.  Absently, his thumb traced over the back of her hand and he heard her sigh softly.

About a block from her apartment, she paused to look inside ‘Sweet Pea’s Bake Shop’ which now had a Autumn themed display in their large window.  Cakes and cookies were exquisitely decorated in colors of orange, red and yellow.  Samantha’s eyes were on the intricate swirls of fondant on one of the cakes.  Derek’s eyes were on her, cataloguing the changes in her expression, the small, pleased smile on her lips.

 “One day I’m going in there and getting one of those cakes...” Samantha sighed before turning her head to look up at him.  Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly when she noticed his gaze.  Derek could hear her heart beat quicken and her breaths deepen.  “Derek...” She swallowed hard, “We aren’t just friends are we?”

He smiled gently, “I... don’t want to just be friends.” he admitted.  Carefully, he drew closer to her so they were only a breath apart, “Do you want to just be friends? he asked in a whisper, feeling like everything was right in this moment.  That this was what he’d been waiting for.

“No...” her scent grew richer to him, till it shifted... changed to sadness.  Her eyes lowered “I can’t...”

Derek drew back, his brain crashing in on itself, “...Why?”

“I can’t do this to you.” 

“I don’t understand.  I thought--” _you were my True Mate_...  His hand slipped from hers, feeling colder without the heat of it.

Samantha held her own hand, like she felt the sudden cold too, “I’ve told you before, about Guides.”

“You said it was frowned upon for them to date, but not forbidden.”

“Derek, I’m an unBonded Guide.  That means that any day, I may Bond with my Sentinel!  Do you have any idea what that means?”

His mouth went dry as he shook his head.

“It means that I will give myself over to that Sentinel completely to seal the Bond.  And to do that, it means a... physical... a sexual connection.”  

“I don’t care.” He didn’t.  He could deal with that when it happened.

“But you will!  Derek, once you’re Bonded to a Sentinel, it’s forever and you have to go where they go.  I’d have to leave.” Her expression grew desperate.  “That day when we met...  For a heartbeat I thought you were my Sentinel... But you’re not... And I can’t be with you and then one day just... be with someone else.  That’s a terrible thing to do!”  

“But you want--”

“What I want doesn’t matter...  I’m a Guide.” Her eyes trailed over him, “You deserve better Derek.  I’m... I’m really sorry.  I didn’t think it would turn out like this... It was really selfish of me and... and I’m so sorry...”  Then she was gone, hurrying down the street to her apartment and leaving him standing in the cool autumn air, his chest tightening painfully and his hand growing colder without hers.

 

*************************

**Four Years and Ten Months Ago**

A bullet impacted into Gerard’s skull, sending his body into a stuttering halt, his fingers clenching to fire his gun.  The shot went wide, narrowly missing Derek.  Then, slowly, the old man’s feet staggered back, signals still trying to travel back and forth through his limbs, till his legs gave out and he flopped to the ground.  

Derek stared at Gerard, his eyes wide and mouth open, almost mirroring the surprised expression on the dead man’s face.  The silence swooped in, like water filling a tank, leaving the werewolf near breathless.  

“F-f-fuck you Gerard,” Stiles’ voice was quivering and when Derek managed to pull his eyes from Argent’s body he could see the young man’s shaking hands, rattling the gun he was barely holding on to now.  Stiles was struggling to breathing, his heart rate accelerating.  His arms dropped, the pistol tangling in his trembling fingers before tumbling to his feet. The brown eyes near rolled up in his head as he stumbled backwards, mouth gasping for air that wasn’t getting through to his lungs.  

Stiles collapsed to the ground into a sitting position, his breath hitching higher and higher.  Derek dragged himself over by his arms, trying to get to the young man who was pale and shaking.

 

*************************

**Four Years Later - November**

Derek didn’t leave his loft, let alone his bed, since that night, except to use the bathroom.  He forced himself to drink water and eat, though he had no appetite.  Eventually, he’d get over this, but right now, he was adjusting to his new reality of not having Samantha in his life... and the cruel joke of it all.  _My True Mate can’t be my mate because she’s a Guide meant for someone else_... _Thank you Universe.  I got it now..._

Dozing almost drunkenly on his bed he was rudely awakened by Scott standing over it and shaking him violently and yelling, “DEREK!” aggressively enough that it was almost an Alpha tone.

With a start, Derek woke up, but he felt dizzy and sick, “I’m not going to Thanksgiving dinner...” he groaned, wanting to close his eyes and be left alone, “Get out...”

“No, you need to get up.”

Blearily he opened his eyes, pushing up on his arms, even as his whole body protested the movement, “What?” he asked, trying to focus his sight on Scott.

“You look like hell.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “If you came to tell me that, you can go.” He turned to curl up again but was stopped by a hand on his arm.

“Derek, no.  I need you to listen to me.  Samantha came by the Animal Clinic yesterday.”

He went on full alert, “What? Is she okay?”

“Deaton said she was looking for you,” Scott sat down on the bed, ignoring the irritated look he got for doing it, “Things all right between you two?  Did you... tell her about the mates thing?”

“No,” he rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the lethargy, “And no.”

Scott didn’t say anything for a while, simply allowing the silence to fill the space between them.

With a full body sigh of annoyance, Derek said, “She realized we weren’t just friends.”

“Oh?” One of Scott’s brows lifted before slow realization dawned on him, “Oh...” Wincing he asked, “She just wanted to stay friends.”

“No...”

“Uh...” His brow scrunched up, “I don’t get it... Then what was the problem?”

“She’s a Guide,” Derek answered and realized from the confused puppy expression on the Alpha’s face, that it wasn’t enough of one, “She’s an unBonded Guide and some day, she’s going to Bond with a Sentinel... and that means she might have to leave.  Because of that she doesn’t want to be more than friends with me...”

“...Oh...” Scott breathed softly, “But maybe she changed her mind?  Maybe that’s why she was looking for you?” He rose from the bed and gestured towards the door, “She probably realized she really likes you!  You should go see her or something!  Though shower because you kind of stink man.”

“Scott,” Derek barked, stopping the excited gushing, “Not every relationship is a fairy tale!  God, you’d think you’d get that!” the anger was a familiar old friend, “I don’t get the happy ending!  Okay?  I’m tired and I’m done fighting it.  You want to pretend everything is a freaking romantic comedy all the time, then fine!” he sneered, “But I’m done!”

The young man stood there, hurt playing in his eyes before the softness shuttered, “Maybe I am a fool for believing in the fairy tales.” His voice hardened, “But, I’m out there, living and trying!  Yeah, I fail and it hurts and it sucks - Trust me, _I know_ \- But I’d rather do that than end up bitter, and alone!”  He spun on his heel and stormed out of the loft, ignoring Derek’s attempts to call him back.

Covering his face, Derek fell back into the bed.

 

*************************

**Four Years and Eleven Months Ago**

“Stiles!” the werewolf shouted, “Come on... Breathe... Remember?  I’m here with you.  Follow my breath, right?  1... 2... 3... 4... Breathe in.  1... 2... 3... 4... Breathe out...” Derek repeated it till he could tell Stiles had caught on, eyes trying to focus on the older man through it, and slowly, painstakingly tried to breathe with him.  Tears trailed down Stiles’ cheeks and his limbs were still trembling, but he followed the breathing pattern till he was finally breathing on his own - coming out the other side of the panic attack.  

Derek felt a wave of relief, “You okay?” he stroked Stiles’ hair.

The young man nodded, muttering, “E-e-everything smells li-like gasoline...”

It was a vile smell, but considering his clothes were soaked in the stuff, he couldn’t do anything about it, “Sorry...” His eyes trailed over the pale features, feeling the weight of Stiles in his arms, alive and breathing.

Brown eyes met Derek’s, “D-did he hit you?”

Derek shook his head.

“You were shot... You’re bleeding...”

“Regular bullets...” The Hunters hadn’t expected Derek to be there in the first place, “They hurt, but I’m healing.  I’ll live.” It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it just then.

Stiles nodded as he sat up, his eyes falling upon the body of Gerard.  He gave a full body shudder, “Oh god... I-I killed him.” Derek could hear the anxious breathing starting, “Oh god... I-I-I k-k-killed him.” Tears fell from his eyes, his hands jittering again, “What... My Dad... I...”

“Stiles--”

“STILES!” The Sheriff’s voice barked from the house.

“Oh god...”

“STILES!”

“We’re he-re!” Stiles’ voice broke and he tried again, “Here Dad!

A second later, the Sheriff was out the back door, eyes wide, looking for his son.  As soon as he spotted them on the lawn, he was at his their side, “Stiles, Christ, are you okay?” He pulled his son into his arms, hugging him close.  In return, Stiles clung to his father, clutching the man’s shirt desperately.  “God kiddo... there was a report of gunfire... and I saw those men and the window and I thought...” Stilinski shook his head and simply held to his son.  He pulled back suddenly, “Are you hurt?  Did they hurt you?” his blue eyes darted over Stiles’ face and body, searching for injury.

“No Dad...”

The Sheriff nodded in relief, cupping Stiles cheek for a moment, obviously in gratitude before he spotted Gerard’s body.  His eyes widened, “What happened?”

“I-I-I,” Stiles voice was unsteady, “He...  uh... I didn’t...

Derek snatched up the pistol from the ground, wrapping his fingers around it, “I shot him.”

 

*************************

**Five Years Later - December**

The call to Scott to apologize a few days later was appropriately awkward and as uncomfortable as Derek suspected it would be.  While he felt justified in his anger, he also knew it wasn’t right to take it out on the Alpha who was only trying to help him.  Scott being Scott, forgave Derek on the following conditions: He had to get out of bed, shower... and had to come to the McCall house Christmas Eve for a holiday gathering.  Reluctantly, Derek agreed.

Getting back to work on the lofts was actually a good thing for him.  The construction and labor was really his solace and savior.  It was something he could control.  He could build and design and it would be right - mistakes could be fixed and made better.  It forced him to wake up every morning, wash, eat and sleep with regularity - even if the schedule didn’t include seeing Samantha.

When Christmas came, Derek actually bought some cookies from Sweet Pea’s that were delicate and professionally decorated with lace-like frosting to Melissa’s house.  It wasn’t supposed to be a big dinner or anything, just a simple gathering for the pack before they were pulled by familial obligations and traditions over the holidays.  Derek could smell the scents of baked goods from the McCall residence as he walked up with his box of cookies and briefly wondered if he should have made his own from scratch.  

The door opened before he reached it and Scott stood there grinning, “Derek!  I wasn’t sure you would actually come.”

“It _was_ part of our agreement.”

“Yeah... well,” he shrugged, “Come on in.” His eyes dropped to see the box, “Oh, are those from Sweet Pea’s? Dude!” his grin grew wider as he stepped back to allow the older man to enter the house.  

The door was closed behind him and Derek stepped in further to see almost everyone else was already there, talking and enjoying hot cider and cookies, Melissa, Lydia, Danny...  Liam and Mason too.  

But he caught the scent before he saw her, achingly familiar... Vanilla... lilacs... summer time... 

Samantha was standing on the other side of the room, next to Jordan and talking over mugs of hot chocolate.  Her dark eyes glanced towards the door and he could hear her heartbeat quicken.  Before she could speak or do anything, Derek spun around to exit, only to find his escape was being blocked by a stubborn looking Alpha.  “Scott--”

“Derek, wait.”

Through clenched teeth he snarled, “You tricked me.”

“I’m sorry, but hear her out.  She just wants to talk.”

“Scott...”

“Just listen,” he insisted, “And then you can go and I won’t bother you about it ever again.”

Taking a deep breath, he released it angrily through his nose, trying not to get angry. “Fine!” He glared, “But not another word about this Scott.  Ever.”

“Not one.  Ever.  Promise.” the young man nodded in agreement before he gestured behind him. 

“Derek?” 

He turned around and there she was, standing right there.  His eyes darted to the side, not wanting to get caught up in gazing at her again.  True Mates be damned.

“Can we talk?” She gestured to the door and he nodded, following her outside after throwing a dark look Scott’s way to the front yard where the dim light over the front door cast everything in soft illumination.  Their breath puffed in small clouds in the crisp night air.

Once they were a decent distance away, he crossed his arms and looked at her flatly, waiting.  Samantha clearly sensed his mood because she fiddled with the end of her simple dress, “Right... I’m sorry for that night.  It doesn’t make what I said untrue, but I... I hate that one day a Sentinel is going to come and it will be this thing that completely changes my life, but that’s how these things work.  I... don’t have a choice and I wish you understood how much it pisses me off, but it’s the price I pay for being what I am.” She swallowed hard, rubbing her hands together to keep them warm, “But... I don’t want to lose you either.”

“Stop,” he said softly, and she blinked into silence, “I don’t want to do this.” He gestured to the space between them, “I can’t do this...  I can’t be your friend and pretend it’s fine.  It’s not going to happen.” his tone was flat - he was just stating facts.  Derek was proud of himself for managing it.  No emotion, right?  Being True Mates was just a physical thing... “Not now and not in the future...” 

“I don’t want to just be friends!” she blurted desperately then clasped her hand over her mouth, realizing she had shouted.  Lowering her hand she continued, “I... don’t want to just be friends.” Her heartbeat was erratic and she was definitely nervous. “You have no idea how miserable I’ve been since that night.  I’ve been sleeping like crap and I haven’t been able to focus on my work.  I got reprimanded!” she flopped her arms, “And it practically hurts not seeing you!” Derek clenched his jaw, not sure he wanted to hear more or not. “When I first met you at the clinic it was like my world narrowed into a tiny nuclear explosion and I thought my heart was going to explode.  I was so sure it was the Bond... that I could only feel that kind of connection to a Sentinel... _my_ Sentinel... But you weren’t one and I was confused and scared because I shouldn’t have felt anything like that for anyone else.” 

“You felt a bond?”

“Yes!” she answered annoyed, sniffing from the cold before going on, “And I ran out of there because I was so freaked out!  But then I figured it was just like... I don’t know... hormones, because have you seen yourself?” she threw her hand at him then let her arm drop at her side, “But then you were at the coffee shop and it was weird but okay and I just...” Samantha winced, “It was nice.  I always felt happy when you were there... I wanted to tell you so many times, but I didn’t want to be creepy because it sounded creepy.  Then you let me sit with you and it was even better being closer... and we talked and it was all really wonderful and I wished you were my Sentinel, but you’re not.” Her breath huffed, “Because it feels right with you...  And when I didn’t see you, everything was wrong.” Her eyes rolled, “And this sounds stupid...”

He swallowed hard, his head in a jumble.  There were no lies in her words, even if her emotions were flickering around between sadness, happiness, fear, worry...

“Derek, you know what you’re getting into with me.  I could Bond in the future.  I sort of doubt it because usually Guides Bond by now and I haven’t... So its possible I have no Sentinel for me... or they’re like, deep in the Ukraine or something, but I don’t care.  And I don’t care if it’s frowned on, because I...  I don’t want to be friends with you, I mean, I don’t want to _just_ be friends with you,” Her heart was beating fast, but so was his and he could only stare at her.  “Okay... Derek,” Samantha looked terrified, “You need to say something now.  Because if you don’t, I’m going to take it as you don’t want to be friends with me... or anything else.”

His eyes darted across her face, his senses broken wide open to find any lie... taking in all he could of her.  Finally he responded, “I don’t want to just be friends with you.”

The breath she’d been holding suddenly came out, “Yeah?”

Derek nodded.

Samantha approached him hesitantly, “You... want to not just be friends with me with everything else?”

He nodded again, his eyes softening.  His hand rose to brush some hair back from her face, noting the dark smudge under her eyes that were evidence that she hadn’t been lying about not sleeping well.  Gently, his thumb feathered across her cheekbones, “So, not just friends...”

“No.” she averred.

 

Their first kiss wouldn’t set the world on fire.  It was a little awkward and just a press of lips, but the words _True Mates_ echoed in his head, even if he was sure he would never say them to her.

 

Their second kiss was better.

 

*************************

 

Scott hadn’t planned on listening in to the conversation going on outside and he technically wasn’t, but he caught some of it.  To his credit, he managed not to do a victory dance in the kitchen.  Derek would thank him later.  

His cell rang and from the living room he heard his Mother, “Sco-ott...” she sang in warning.

“Just a second!” Scott defended.

His mother harumphed, but didn’t stop him, “Tell Jamie I said hi.”

Grinning, he slid his thumb on his cell’s screen before looking at it, “Hey good lookin’!” he chirped.  The familiar voice on the other end greeted him in return, laughing - but it wasn’t Jamie.  Scott’s eyes widened, “Stiles?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And a wild Stiles appears! 
> 
> More Stiles to come in the next chapter!


	8. Help I'm Alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay... Bonus Chapter and moving forward... For those wondering what happened to Stiles... Here we go!
> 
> All mistakes are mine since this is unbeta'd. Please let me know if there is anything I need to correct or any tags I should add. Thanks to all kudos and comments - I appreciate them very much! 
> 
> Warning: Character experiences a panic attack.
> 
> (Chapter title from a song of the same title by Metric)
> 
> ____________________________________________________

**Two Years Ago**

Stiles was not someone who faced his problems head on.  Rather, he avoided issues waiting till they disappeared on their own - even though he knew he should deal with the crazy, horrible, nightmarish and fantastical things he faced, from his Mother’s death to causing someone else’s, he never did.  Instead, he shoved it all down into his gut like it was over flowing dirty laundry that he had no intention of ever washing and got on with his life.  As far as coping mechanisms went, it was shoddy and bound to fall apart.  This practice was extremely unhealthy - and he’d be the first to admit that - and it rarely worked in his favor and tended to actually blow up in his face in rather horrific, but spectacular fashions.

And then, one day, it literally _did_ explode.

As in, an actual explosion happened, a few blocks away from where he was standing, sending his frail human body flying backwards from the force of it, to have it skittering along the sidewalk.

It was probably some sort of undocumented miracle that Stiles did not have permanent brain damage from the amount of times he hit his head in his life.  He was either blessed or had an abnormally strong skull that prevented his precious squishy brain from deciding that certain neural connections just weren’t worth keeping anymore.  On the up side though, being unconscious meant the peaceful ignorance of what was happening around you - a dark void where you didn’t hear or feel anything - time slipping by as you blissfully floated along.  The downside being that eventually, you have to wake up.

And he did. 

Stiles was sure he got caught in another explosion when awareness came.

His eardrums burst in a cacophony of sound that sent his body arching like it was electrocuted.  His skin was flaying off his body and everything smelled like it was burning in acid.  Opening his eyes was a horror.  Light blasted in white fire.  From the way his throat felt torn apart he was sure he was screaming, but he couldn’t hear it with the havoc of discord ripping through his brain.  Confusion and fear and god EVERYTHING HURT!  Pain clasped his arms, weights on his chest set his limbs spasming, rough sandpaper on his flesh as he tried to escape it - any of it, all of it.  

A piercing needle and then blessed darkness wrapped him in soft cottony silence once more.

The next time his consciousness dragged him to wakefulness, nothing had changed, except that the drugs were still coursing through his body, so there was a strange dissociation.  He closed his lids against the piercing blast of light that was like flames burning away his eye balls.  There was rough cement on his skin, scraping the tender surface of his form, leaving it all raw and open wound feeling.  And the noise!  Relentless pounding in his ears - a nail being hammered into his skull so he could barely think a single coherent thought...  There was no respite from any thing, no place to turn to in search of peace or comfort.  It was torture!

Some part of him - perhaps animal instinct - wanted escape.  _Run Run Run Run Run..._ Rolling his body in some direction, forcing his limbs to move through the haze of agony he flailed his arm forward, hitting something, but he dared not open his eyes, terrified of the consequences of doing so.  Clenching his teeth, he tried to get himself closer to it, managing to get his chest over the bar? Rail? Pipe?  His arm reached forward, searching, the air like microscopic nails scratching at his skin.  Swallowing a sob he waved his arm, fingers searching for something... anything?  A wall?  Another bar?  There was nothing but a void... Leaning over further, he extended his arm down desperately but there was just... air.  Suddenly, something yanked out of his arm, a chunk of flesh and he screamed as the pain tore up to his brain - the sound of his own agony ripping through his ears.  Losing his balance he went over the bar, into the abyss -

Stiles had no time to catch his breath before he hit a hard surface, cracking against it, knocking the air from his lungs.  Chemicals burned up his nose when he tried to pull air in and it pushed him over an edge from nausea to vomiting.  He threw up bile, liquid thorns along his throat, snot and tears running down his face, choking himself on clogged air.  

An incessant klaxon pounded into his skull... an alarm?  The screaming of a suffering wild animal... him?   Then a bang and an earthquake of noise rushing towards him.  Claws dug into his arms, pulling, yanking.  “NO!!” the cry was hurled from him before it fell apart into incoherent words and sounds.  The creatures were squawking so loudly, yelling at him.  A piercing pain and then there was beautiful nothing once more.  Stiles fell into it thankfully, wrapping himself into it and pushing everything else away.

The world drifted into dreams.  They weren’t always pleasant and most times they were disturbing visions that he couldn’t fit together.  There were times Stiles was sure he was sort of awake, but it was like being surrounded by water - his vision wasn’t clear and things sounded strange.  Besides, being aware hadn’t been so great previously so, he figured it was better to dream.  An active part of his brain - the one the usually helped him figure out a Plan B or C to everyone else’s Plan A (which hardly ever worked and if they would just listen to him in the first place, Plans B or C wouldn’t even be needed thank you very much) - told him he needed to escape from where ever he was.  Obviously he’d been captured by someone, but who?  How long had he been gone?  By now his Dad had to be aware he was gone... Scott too.  They’d be looking for him.  What did his captors want from him?  Why were they torturing him?  

But the lucid functioning would drift and he’d be sent somewhere else, his mind following a thread, a child chasing after a firefly...

He dreamt of waking up, the world a place of fire and sharp edges that would have him screaming and scrambling to return to the darkness.  Something would send him back to the nothing and if he could talk, he’d have thanked whatever did it.

He dreamt of his father speaking to him.  The words warped and blended into sounds, but he didn’t care.  It was the _sound_ of his father’s voice and it made him feel safe.  Memories of bedtime stories, shared laughter, and strong arms cradling him.  His father’s tone was assured and comforting most times... sometimes worried.  Sometimes sad.  Stiles didn’t like those times because he couldn’t do anything to help his father and he always felt responsible for making his father sad.  He wanted to apologize for whatever he did this time... Wanted to promise he would do better... he’d _be_ better... 

He dreamt of lights flashing in his eyes, shooting torment through them straight to his brain.  He dreamt of a hammer clanging against an anvil in his ears.  He dreamt of chemicals, blood and tears.  

He dreamt of home...  his house in Beacon Hills where pictures of his mother hung on the walls, smiling a smile that his own was an echo of, brown eyes the shade of honey.  Where there was a dent in the hall upstairs from when he tripped and smashed his elbow.  Where his room was always a mess, no matter how many times he tried to organize it because he’d lose focus on the task at hand and start researching how dustballs were formed.  Where the kitchen was the color of yellow butter, warm and inviting and the place where he and his father shared so many meals.  Where there was a worn out couch that was the best place for naps and a blanket perfect for curling up in.

He dreamt of Scott...  His best friend who always believed in him.  Who knew him better than anyone and would always have his back.  Who was goofy and sweet and always meant well.  Who sometimes forgot what was important, but somehow always made his way back.  Who tried to kill him once.  Who had a crooked smile.  Who was loyal and strong in ways that Stiles knew he could never be, but that was okay, because Scott was.  Who he was sometimes jealous of, even if he never said it out loud.  Who would go to hell and back for him if he had to.  Who he’d die for.

He dreamt of his friends...  the myriad colors of them... Here and gone.  Strawberry blond hair, a sharp tongue and gentle embrace...  Blonde locks with a killer smile in leather...  Calm confidence, a silent smile, bleeding in water...  A cocky grin under tousled curls and a scarf...  A fox who was a sparkling unicorn of hope and intentions...  Dimpled cheeks of a protector with a sword in her gut...

He dreamt of Derek...  That asshole.

Eventually, Stiles became aware of the world outside his own head.  He was muzzy - which didn’t make sense really because he’d been sleeping.  Weren’t you supposed to feel better after sleeping?  

Sounds were muffled, like there was cotton in his ears, but he didn’t feel anything stuffed in them.  When he hesitantly lifted his lids, there was no bright lights, no distress.  The air was clean.  His body was cradled in a wonderful... softness.  Like he was laying on kittens.  Was he laying on kittens?  Was that a thing?

It was all blessedly wonderful...

Had they come for him?  His friends?  Was he saved?  

He turned his head to slowly take in his surroundings.  He was not laying on kittens, but he was in what looked like a hospital bed, sheets and blankets over his lower body, his chest covered by a gray shirt.  It had to be the softest shirt he’d ever worn in his life.  Maybe they used kitten fur to make it?  There were wires coming out of him but whatever they were hooked to was behind him, out of his line of sight.  The room’s lights were hidden and set to low, illuminating just enough to see, but no brighter.  Stiles didn’t focus on them too long as he felt his eyes watering with the beginning of pain.  The walls were bare and there was no furniture, but there was a thick carpet on the floor.  It was hard to make out any colors in the dim light, so he didn’t try.  Besides, it was the best he had felt in a long time, even if he was still a little drugged.  His arms had some scratches that were mostly healed.  Was it from the explosion or something else?  Was it from his torture?  Some part of him remembered a piece of his arm being torn out?  Was that real?  Checking he noticed his arms were whole, no scars or wounds.  What had happened?

A low beep sounded, almost too low to hear, like it was far away.

Stiles looked around, trying to see around his bed, “Who’s there?” the sound of his own voice slammed into his ears like a fist and he covered them, swallowing a whimper.  Slowly he lowered his hands, but when no further pain came, he dropped them to his side, huffing in discomfort.  What the hell?  His head throbbed with a headache, which he felt through his ears and eyes, even his skin, but it was manageable.

The beep sounded again and he realized it was coming from a large pouch attached to the side of the bed.  Cautiously, he peeked inside the pouch, made of the same material as his shirt.  There was a tablet.  After looking around the room again, he slid the tablet out and set it on his lap with trembling hands.  The tablet itself was encased in a soft cover as well, leaving only the black screen open.  Not sure what else to do, he slid his finger along the glass surface, waking it up.  Like the lights in the room, the brightness of the screen was set to super low, which Stiles appreciated.  He could still see everything fine and what he found appeared to be a chat window of some sort, with a blinker and a keyboard.  

Suddenly the blinker moved, spelling out words, “ _Hello Mr. Stilinski._ ”

Stiles’ mouth went dry and he swallowed hard, feeling his heartbeat quicken - _hearing_ it quicken.  It made his headache pound more.  Okay.  Deep quiet breath.  So... they knew who he was.  This was _not_ surprising.  He was not surprised.  This was fine.  Worrying his lip for a moment he figured this might be a way to get some answers to the millions of questions piling up in his now active brain.

He typed, “ _who r u_ ”

“ _My name is Divya._ ” popped up on the screen under his question. 

Okay... He had a name now.  No one he knew though. “ _where am i_ ” Best to go with the basics.

“ _You are at the Sentinel Institute in Cascade, Washington._ ”

That didn’t make much sense, “ _why_ ”

“ _You came Online.  We suspect from the gas line explosion.  You suffered some head trauma which might have activated your senses._ ”

Stiles swallowed again.  There were a few tubes and wires on him and he wondered how badly he’d been hurt.  Then he realized what she’d said, “ _online  what do u mean_ ”  Why was he at the Sentinel Institute?

“ _Mr. Stilinski, you are a Sentinel._ ”

His hands dropped the pad like it had just burned him and he nearly started cursing when he remembered what happened the last time he spoke.  Opening and closing his mouth, he grew frustrated and then clenched his teeth.  

Of course he knew what Sentinels were and all about the Sentinel Institute - he’d done research on them as soon as he heard about the Recovery Center being built in Beacon Hills.  He might have looked into sooner, except he was too preoccupied with supernatural dangers to look into the super human people.  There were plenty of papers and research available online and he had read the first case study of a Sentinel - a police officer on the Cascade force named Jim Ellison - written by Blair Sandburg who was actually Ellison’s Guide.  It was all ground breaking and interesting and through Sandburg’s research, the discovery of more Sentinels had been made.  Eventually this lead to the Sentinel Institute being created - a place where Sentinels could train to control their senses and possible contribute to the world.  They worked closely with the government, but were not under its jurisdiction.  

Picking up the tablet, he stared at the blinking cursor.  Okay.  _“not a sentinel”_ he typed aggressively.  Sentinels came Online during puberty.  Usually, they were ignored if it was only one sense that was heightened because most people just thought, ‘oh hey, I have really good eyesight!’ but a lot were misdiagnosed with some mental illness or hospitalized through misunderstanding - unless people knew what they were looking for and the number of those people were growing as knowledge got spread around.  Stiles was now in his twenties...  way too old to come Online.

“ _There will have to be tests._ ” the tablet responded, “ _To assess your senses and abilities, but you are a Sentinel Mr. Stilinski._ ”

“ _i am too old_ ”

“ _While most Sentinels do come Online at a younger age, others doing so when they are older, it is not unheard of.  Trauma can affect how a Sentinel comes Online.  Either halting it, accelerating it, or activating it._ ”

Stiles frowned, tapping his finger on the screen.  So... He was apparently a Sentinel - and he quickly shuffled that little fact to the side for the moment - he was at the S.I. in Washington.  “ _what happened 2 me_ ”

There was a bit of time before the answer appeared on the tablet, “ _You were taken to the hospital for treatment after the explosion.  Which apparently triggered your senses.  Upon awakening, you were over stimulated causing painful reactions._ ” Stiles didn’t want to correct her that ‘painful reactions’ was a damn understatement, “ _You were sedated when the doctor recognized the symptoms and then transferred from Berkley Medical Center to our facility here._ ”

“ _my senses are out of whack_ ”

“ _Yes.  Imagine a computer booting up with all its programs and applications all at once._ ”

Great.  It explained his memories - how everything had hurt... “ _am i stuck like this forever_ ”

“ _No.  That’s why you’re here and why I’m here.  We will work with you to dial down your senses so you can control them and live a normal life again Mr. Stilinski._ ”

He snorted humorlessly, then winced at the pain it caused in his ears.  If this woman had any idea that normal had left his life, taking everything and the kitchen sink with it years ago, she’d understand why he found that comment amusing.  The fact that he was a Sentinel was only another notch in the ‘My Fucked Up Life’ list.

“ _We can help you Mr. Stilinski._ ”

Stiles wanted to laugh but he reigned himself in and just typed, “ _stiles_ ” in irritation.

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“ _stiles   my name   mr stilinski is my father_ ” Realization clutched him, “ _does my father know_ ” God, the man must be so worried about him!  He’d been on the phone when the explosion happened!

“ _Yes.  He was at the hospital with you in Berkley and is fully aware of your presence here and your current condition._ ”

“ _i want to talk to him_ ”

There was hesitation and no answer coming quickly.  

He typed again, “ _i want to talk to my father_ ”

“ _I’m sorry Stiles.  At this moment, we don’t recommend that.  Not till you are able to control your sensory input._ ”

“ _i can talk to him through the tablet like with you_ ”

“ _Stiles, you came Online rather violently.  We are concerned that your emotional state could trigger a Feral reaction at this delicate time.  To that end, we want to keep you calm and at ease._ ”

“ _then let me talk to him_ ”  Now he was getting agitated.  Was he a prisoner?  “ _u cant keep me here against my will_ ”

“ _We aren’t.  I swear.  Listen.  I will do what I can to get you in contact with your father.  If I promise to do that, will you promise to remain calm and let us help you?_ ”

He frowned, not liking the deal at all, but he really had no choice in the matter.  “ _fine_ ” Playing along for now would have to do till he could get out or get more information.  

“ _Thank you Stiles._ ”

“ _tired  going to sleep_ ” he shoved the pad to the side of him so it lay on the blankets.  Guessing that they had a camera on him somewhere in the room, he wasn’t worried about them wondering what happened to him if he stopped responding.  Rolling to his side he rested his head on the pillow and gazed into the gray world he was in.  There was a lot to digest.  His eyes traced over the dark room, wondering where the camera was.  They knew he had woken up so he figured it was across from him... The center of the ceiling was flat... so not there.   The darkness of the space didn’t effect his eyesight so much that he couldn’t see differences in surfaces, but he wasn’t able to make out anything but flat planes.  

Sighing, he went over the conversation with the person who said her name was Divya.  Assuming everything she said was true, his memories after the explosion were no longer confusing.  He hadn’t been tortured by anyone but his own senses that were all open and taking in everything with no filter.  Still, he didn’t understand what happened.  Why hadn’t he come Online sooner than this?  Lord knew he had enough traumatic experiences in his life up until now.  Hell, Stiles could fill a book with them.  Closing his eyes, he thought back to his pre-teen years, when a Sentinel usually woke up...  They weren’t times he often reminisced about since that was around the time of his Mother’s death.  Why the hell didn’t he come Online then?  Certainly wasn’t a great moment in his life.

Figures that his becoming some cool super human wouldn’t happen till after he left Beacon Hills, real life Hellmouth minus the Buffy.  His life...  Seriously.

He’d keep Divya to her promise of getting him in touch with his father.  They had no idea how bad Stiles could make things for them if they didn’t.  No one excelled at driving people crazy like he did.  Just ask Agent McCall of the FBI...  At least if his dad knew, Stiles would feel better... could tell him not to worry and that everything would be all right - that he wasn’t leaving his father all alone...  He drifted off to sleep, thinking about his dad, sitting in that big house with no one to look after him.

 

**************************

 

Stiles assumed it had been a few days since he first woke up in what Divya told him they called a “Dark Room”.  Time was hard to tell when it was the same low lighting every day and no windows.  The only difference now was that he could use the bathroom and they had put a simple table and chair in there with him - he had no idea when the furniture had come in because he’d been asleep when it happened - same as the removal of the wires and tubes in his body.  Stiles wondered if he had been drugged again for it to happen.  He’d explored the room as much as he’d been able to, running his fingers over the surface of the walls - amazed at being able to feel the slight rise of paint swirls under his finger tips even if he couldn’t see them - and found the seaming of a door.  There was no knob or anything so he had no way to open it from this side of the room.  At the bottom, there was a slot that would open and a tray of food was pushed through gently, before the slot would close once more.  While Divya kept assuring him he was not a prisoner, the evidence told him otherwise, but he was biding his time.

The bathroom had been an odd experience.  A flat handle would push the door inward and slide to the side rather than open and close like a normal door - and it slid silently on its tracks.  Like the main room, the lights were low, but by now, he could see almost perfectly.  Everything was motion sensor activated, so he couldn’t adjust the temperature for the water in the sink, but it was room temperature - not too hot or cold.  Same thing for the small personal shower with its glass door.  The water pressure was also low, which he appreciated, because even at the level it was at now, it sometimes hurt, pelting his skin like a million stones raining on him.  Luckily the towels were super soft - like fluffy cloud soft.  He made a mental note of finding out where the hell S.I. got them, because _everyone_ was going to get them for Christmas!  

The worse was actually using the bathroom...  Stiles never thought he’d find the sound of peeing painful, but there was just no way to make it bearable.  And of course, with his senses heightened, including his nose, so, the smell was... Well - some things were better not dwelt upon.  The flushing system was more a suction then normal, so everything was thankfully gone fast.  New gray clothes were always waiting for him, folded on his bed - a shirt, loose pants and socks.  The food was okay - mostly simple things that didn’t have a lot of flavor and all at room temperature.

Stiles felt like a boring hamster.

Discomfort and pain were at a near constant low level.  Every little sound making him flinch, though it was clear they tried to make it as quiet as possible.  Sensations on his skin that weren’t the cloth they provided, hurt like someone had taken a metal file to his flesh.  He learned the hard way not absently scratch his arm or rub his neck.  At least his eyes weren’t subjected to anything with the dim lights and the air was scent free.

The only thing that kept him from going crazy was talking with Divya on the tablet.  She answered all his questions, but there was a limit, considering that she kept telling him that they’d have to wait and see after his tests to really move forward.  He’d learned that she was a Guide - not _his_ Guide, but _a_ Guide - assigned to aide him through everything.  She also got digital versions of books that he could read on the tablet, which helped alleviate some of his boredom, but no games were allowed.  Over stimulation and Zoning were real concerns.  Also, no internet - which was like the worst thing...  Honestly, there were better ways to torture him!

Every day he reminded Divya of her promise to speak to his Dad.

 

*************************

 

The woman who came in was dark skinned with very short black hair and long bangs, wearing a gray dress, gray tights and slipper like shoes, holding a tablet.  The only color on her was a red woven bracelet on her right wrist, the color glaring after so many days in the Dark Room.  She seemed to be aware of it and immediately pushed the bracelet under the long gray sleeve of her dress, hiding it.  She smiled and lifted her tablet up, indicating that Stiles should do the same.  

Crossing to his bed, he picked it up and she started typing silently.  “ _hello stiles  i am divya_ ”

Finally being able to see someone - anyone - was great so he smiled and waved a hand at her, in brief greeting.  When she began typing again, he looked down at his tablet.

“ _today we will be testing you to confirm your sentinel status_ ”

Stiles’ heart rate picked up making him wince at the sound and his mouth went dry.  He wasn’t sure why he was so nervous... Considering that if he didn’t pass they’d let him go home... But deep down he knew the truth of the situation and that was he was a Sentinel.  At this point, all they’d be testing for was to see what senses were heightened - whether he was an Omega (which he guessed wasn’t the case because he knew more than one sense had been fucked up in the hospital), a Beta (with two or more senses heightened), or an Alpha (which would be all senses heightened and were very rare).  He nodded at her.  He’d had days to adjust to this and he was ready.

Divya smiled in return and slipped the tablet into the pocket of her dress before stepping up to the door and waiting for it to open to let her out.  Instead of just leaving, she turned towards Stiles and waited for him to join her.  Wiping his hands on his legs he took a deep breath and exhaled quietly before joining her and then following her out of the Dark Room - leaving the comfort of the space.

 

*************************

 

Stiles was an Alpha. 

The irony was not lost on him.

He wanted to laugh.

What kind of cosmic joke was his life?  Really?

Divya had looked at him funny, and he figured his expression must have been confusing.  He waved it off and gestured towards her tablet so she could finish explaining things. They were sitting at the table in his room the next day. The woman nodded, “ _we are very excited to have you here with us  alpha sentinels are extremely rare  it will mean more extensive training to control your abilities_ ”  

He figured as much.  The tests had been strange, but nothing out of the ordinary.  They checked his hearing by putting soft headphones on him like they do at the doctor’s office.  Divya explained they were starting from the lowest setting... Stiles heard the beep and raised his hand.  This went on for short while and he continued raising his hand.  He was only thankful it didn’t hurt his ears.  In the end, they stopped, Divya telling him that he was hearing in a range beyond normal human hearing.  Not sure what to do with that, he simply shrugged.  The eye test was normal at first, even in the dim light of the new room he was in, he could see the letters clearly.  Then they were checking at distances...  He even got to play a shooting video game - though it was pretty relaxed and slow paced.  The targets were moved further and further but he kept hitting them.  They had him close his eyes and run his fingers along a book surface and he correctly guessed what each letter printed was underneath the pads of his fingertips.  He was asked to smell something and tell them what he was smelling - which he told them.  And then he had to taste something and break down each item in it...  There were more and more tests, all checking one sense or another.  By the end of it, he was just tired from it all and started to get antsy.

“ _now what_ ” He asked, typing into the tablet which was still his only way of communicating.

“ _now we begin working with you to get your senses under control_ ”

“ _will that get me out of here_ ”

Divya smiled and instead of responding through the tablet, she simply nodded her head.

“ _then what are we waiting for_ ” he sat up eagerly.

“ _first, I have a surprise for you_ ” 

Stiles raised his brows in curiosity.  When Divya held her hand out, he handed his tablet to her, not hiding the confusion in his expression.  She quickly tapped a few things then adjusted the back of the tablet so it was set on an easel.  Smiling, she then turned the screen to face Stiles and what he saw there made his eyes widen as his face split into a grin - It was his father!

Divya gestured towards his screen and indicated he should type on the keyboard.  Stiles started typing and his screen changed so that the keyboard remained, the chat window was up and a small screen in screen live video took up the top - his own face in the smaller inset screen in the left corner.  His father grew alert, looking at the screen and Stiles guessed that the man saw his face.  He saw his dad’s mouth moving, saying his name, his face breaking into a relieved grin, as he reached forward and pulled the screen closer.  His dad started talking, but Stiles shook his head before typing, “ _use chat  no sound_ ”

Understanding crossed the Sheriff’s face and he started typing - thankfully the man got better than the hunt and peck style of typing he used to do, “ _Hey kid.  How are you?  They treating you ok?_ ”

“ _i am good  how r u_ ” It was so mundane, when all Stiles wanted to do was yell in joy and start rambling at his father about everything that had happened, rattling off the list of questions in his head.  There was frustration, but he wasn’t going to give in to that when he had the chance to talk to his dad.  Feeling the tears forming in his eyes, he wiped them away before they started falling, not minding the rug burn sensation on his cheeks from it.  Divya was still sitting across from him, but she was turned away, looking at her own tablet.  He appreciated the ‘privacy’ she was offering. 

“ _Good.  Miss you._ ” The Sheriff’s eyes were misty so Stiles knew he wasn’t alone in the emotional reunion.

“ _miss u 2_ ” He had so much he wanted to say, but his fingers were too shaky to type it fast enough. “ _apparently i am a sentinel_ ”

His father chuckled - even without sound he could hear it. “ _So they tell me.  Only you kid._ ”

Stiles ducked his head shyly before biting his lip, “ _sorry_ ”

Immediately the Sheriff shook his head, “ _Stiles no.  Nothing to be sorry about._ ” his eyes were focused on the screen - on Stiles’ image - and the young man was familiar with that intense look.  “ _Don’t apologize for this.  I’m sorry we didn’t know sooner.  That you had to suffer at hospital._ ”

“ _u were there_ ” So that hadn’t been a dream...

The Sheriff nodded and his expression was sad, “ _Couldn’t help you.  They tell me you are better?_ ”

He nodded, “ _yes but want 2 come home_ ”

His father sighed, “ _I know kiddo.  I want you to come home too.  But till you get a handle on this, it isn’t safe._ ”

It was Stiles’ turn to sigh, “ _i know_ ”

They spoke for a little bit more, the Sheriff assuring Stiles that he was watching what he ate and was taking care of himself.  There wasn’t much news from Beacon Hills now - all was quiet on the western front so to speak.  Stiles suspected there was more, but his father wasn’t sharing it.  As long as the man was okay, Stiles didn’t care though.  After an hour or so, the Sheriff typed in, “ _They told me I won’t be able to talk to you after this till training is done.  You can’t have any distractions._ ”

“ _dont see why  im fine_ ” he typed aggressively.

“ _Stiles.  You didn’t see yourself in hospital._ ” the haunted gaze in the Sheriff’s eyes made Stiles’ stomach clench and again, the guilt of having upset his father, ate at him, “ _If they can help you, let them.  Do what you have to.  Then you come home.  I won’t let them keep my only son from me._ ”  Stiles could practically hear his father’s voice - speaking to him, assuring him, comforting him.

He frowned, wanting to protest, but his father’s expression became stern so he simply nodded.  

“ _All right.  I have to go.  We’ll keep in touch somehow.  We’ll work it out.  Don’t worry._ ”

“ _ok_ ”

The Sheriff sat there, gazing at him before he mouthed the words, “I love you son.”

Stiles mouthed the words back and wished he could at least hug his father and have that comfort. Then the screen went black and the image of his father was gone.  Feeling more depressed than he had before, he rested his head in his arm, using his other hand to push away the tablet - his silent way of saying he was not talking anymore and was done for the day.  Divya got the message and quietly rose from the table and left.

 

*************************

 

“You need to imagine a dial”

“I am!” Stiles shouted in frustration, wanting to pull his hair out.  How many times was she going to say the same thing over and over again?  At this point he was willing to tell her she could shove her dial up where the sun didn’t shine.

His tactile senses had been tackled first, though he still thought it was cool that he was able to feel words printed on a page and read them out loud.  Showering felt a whole lot better now that the water wasn’t painful - and they increased the water pressure so he wasn’t under a weak flow.  Now that he had control, it actually felt really good - like a massage.  

Smell was a weird one.  That snuck up on him from time to time and he wondered if it was something werewolves dealt with - being able to smell people.  He was still getting the hang of focusing it, so he wasn’t a tracker or anything, but it was strange to know that Divya had come into contact with a rose at some point because the scent still lingered on her hand, even though he knew she washed her hands.  He had no idea how much information could be taken in through a person’s sense of smell!

Hearing had taken a while because so much input came through that sense.  If he wasn’t careful, he would get caught up listening to Divya’s heartbeat...  the sound of blood rushing through her veins, her stomach digesting, her swallowing saliva...  It was hard to pull back once he got focused and he understood why he was being kept isolated before being allowed to be in contact with people.  Now that he was gaining control, focus was hard to keep - worse than when his ADHD acted up.  But at least now he could hear Divya speak and they could talk rather than typing on a keyboard.  

“You need to calm down.  I know it’s frustrating, but we went over this.”

“Fuck!” Stiles cursed, his eyes still shut tightly, his hands on his hips as his head dropped.  Finally, he started taking a series of deep breaths to get his emotions under wraps.  

They’d been working for hours now, getting him to the point that he could handle a normal light in a room without having any pain, but it was being difficult.  The process usually started with a sort of meditation and then imagining a dial powered all the way up.  Slowly, he had to think about turning the dial down, imagining he was turning his senses down with it.  He could control it however he wanted.  Eventually, it would be second nature to him to do it, but right now it took concentration and focus.  

“You can do this Stiles.” Divya seemed to have infinite amount of patience with him through all of his training.  Never raising her voice or yelling back at him, no matter how many times he snapped at her or wanted to give up.  Stiles didn’t know if this was how all Guides were or if she was going for Sainthood.

“All right...” He dropped his arms, shaking them out before lifting his head.  Taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth he got his heartbeat going regularly again - and how weird was it that he could hear his own heartbeat?  When he felt pretty stable there, he brought his dial up to mind.  He imagined turning it up and turning it down, practically feeling it at his fingertips.  Slowly... he turned the dial lower, not all the way, but part of the way.  Putting all his belief in it happening and being real.  When he got it almost to zero, he took a deep breath and let it out, his lids lifting at the same time.  The light was irritating, but not painful - the same way it would be if you were in the dark and stepped out into sunlight.  It was just a moment and Stiles blinked it away.  The first thing he saw was Divya standing across from him, a smile on her face.  They were in the training room and the lights were up and he was looking at her.  He could see her skin was a cinnamon color, her hair was black, but a flat black.  Her eyes were a dark brown, almost black, with a lighter ring around the edges, a fine severe line that separated it from the eggy white that was cut through with thin red lines of blood vessels--

Stiles pulled back.  He was focusing too much and that danced around the border to Zoning.  And then he lost it.  Pain shot through his eyeballs like needles and he hunched over, shutting his eyes as his hands covered them, crying out in shock.  

“Stiles?” and the sound of her voice bombarded his eardrums.

Quickly he tried to relax again, to dial down his hearing - he could only deal with pain in one part of him at a time.  He held up a hand, palm facing towards her so she wouldn’t come closer and wouldn’t say anything.  It took a few moments, but he got control of himself and straightened.  “Okay...” he murmured, keeping his eyes closed.

“Well, it was a start.”

Stiles nodded, “Let’s try it again.”

“We can stop for today if--”

“Nope.  Let’s try it again.”

 

*************************

 

“There are a lot of opportunities for an Alpha level Sentinel,” Christian, said, sitting across from Stiles in the S.I. cafeteria.  

Now that Stiles had better control over his abilities, he was allowed to mingle with other Sentinels and Guides, in the facility.  He’s just another trainee like all the others - except that most of them are pre-teens and teenagers.  All caught up in either thinking it’s all amazing and cool or being withdrawn and wanting to go home.  He did note there were a few older ones - his age and much older.  They’re rare, but he felt better about his ‘late blooming’ when he saw them.  His free time was limited though, because he has five senses to deal with and each required a different process to handle which was fine to an extent.  Getting involved with all the other trainees could be an emotional strain.  The supervisors don’t mind his lack of interaction, seeing as how emotions play a large role in how senses can be affected - sometimes more than physical stimuli - and they don’t want to risk someone like Stiles who is an Alpha and Awoke late.  Used to being more isolated from his years growing up in Beacon Hills (Scott was his best and ONLY friend for a very long time), Stiles didn't mind so much.  

“So everyone keeps telling me,” He shoved a piece of roasted chicken into his mouth before chewing it aggressively.  Once he got his sense of taste working in his favor again, he was all for having food that tasted like something... _anything_!  His first meal had been a breakfast of apple cinnamon oatmeal... it was heavenly.  “I just don’t know what I want to do yet.  I mean, I was in the middle of my junior year of college.  I kind of want to finish my studies... get my degree...”

Christian, a Beta level Sentinel with enhanced smell and hearing, snorted, “Why bother.  You’re set for life for a job with the S.I. now.”

Stiles glared at the other, “Because maybe I don’t want to be working for the S.I.?  I had plans for my own life before this,” he gestured to the room around them, “all happened to me, you know?”

But the young man doesn’t seem to get it.  Stiles can’t expect a 15 year old to really grasp it.  Christian came Online at puberty - like a normal Sentinel - and he’s already been drinking the Kool-Aid about becoming a part of S.I. and contributing to society using his special super human abilities.  It’s not like Stiles is against it or anything and yeah, it would be cool to help people, but he had laid out things for himself before this happened.  Okay, maybe he didn’t have great plans or everything planned out, but still... It was the principle of the thing.   And Stiles always hated when control was taken out of his hands.  He wasn’t going to be forced to do anything others wanted him to do.  If he did join S.I., it would be his _informed_ choice and because he wanted to.  

“Well, I wish I was an Alpha...” Christian muttered as he poked at the bowl of cereal he was having for dinner.  The corner of his spoon crushing the small oat squares as he pouted.

Stiles snorted, “You _so_ don’t,” he muttered.  He’d been approached by so many S.I. guys who were all courting him for different positions within the facility and outside of it, that his head spun.  Of course he could still leave the S.I. and enter the ‘private sector’, but his records would always indicate that he was an Alpha level Sentinel.  Stiles couldn’t imagine what that would mean when he was trying to get a job...  

Well... Criminology had been part of his studies... right?  What better skill could a Criminology Major have than heightened senses to field test evidence?  His fork tines pushed at the green beans, feeling disheartened... Prejudice against Sentinels wasn’t unheard of and he imagined having one working beside you would put people on edge.  It’s not like he didn’t have enough trouble with people putting up with his rambling and ADHD mind leaps and flailing limbs.  Yup, Alpha Sentinel would help immensely... not.

 

*************************

 

“I still don’t understand why I came Online so late,” Stiles grumped, tapping his fingers against the table surface in the room where they had just finished a series of tests where he had to identify all the instruments playing in a classical music pieces, “I mean, I totally could have used all these Sentinel skills early on.”

Divya smiled in understanding, “Everyone is different Stiles.  They develop differently.  Sometimes trauma can wake us up, or keep us sleeping.  Did anything happen to you that might have been...” She took a deep breath, “Traumatic?”

He snorted.  Did she have enough time to listen to the list?  Stiles just shook his head and looked away.

“Stiles, it might help to talk.”

There was no way in hell he was going to have a discussion about his high school years where everything went sideways the night he had the brilliant idea to go see a dead body.  And let’s not forget the more brilliant idea to convince his best friend to go with him.  “There’s nothing I can think of,” he said instead.

“From our records, I saw that your mother--”

“Nope.” he popped the ‘p’, “Not going there.” 

The woman nodded and gazed down at her tablet, “Well, it doesn’t matter why you came Online, or didn’t.. in the end, you did...” her tone was soft.

“So I have to keep taking my Adderall,” Stiles frowned, changing the subject.

Divya finishing with her tablet and lifted her dark eyes toward him, “Yes.”

“Oh,” he sighed.  

“Did you want a different answer?”

Stiles sat back in his chair, “Yeah... I mean, I know I take a lower dosage now, but I was sort of hoping to cut if off completely.”

“I understand not wanting to have to medicate yourself, but considering you are Online now, you losing focus or getting distracted because of your ADHD could be detrimental.” Her voice was patient as always, “Perhaps when you are Bonded, maybe it can be revisited.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand, “So is that like, a big thing?  Bonding?  Everyone talks about it like it’s the best thing since curly fries.” He nodded his head towards the red woven bracelet on her wrist, “So, what’s it like?  Tell me all about the magic,” His eyes widened comically as his free hand waggled at her.

Divya smirked, “Okay, first of all, it isn’t like some Disney movie.” She crossed her arms, “But if I had to compare it to something, I suppose the closest thing would be sort of like finding your true love.”

“Seriously?” he raised a brow.

“Seriously.” She shrugged, “Look, I can’t tell you what it’s like for everyone.  If you asked someone like... Greg what it was like bonding with Adam?  It would probably be different.”

“Because they’re men?”

“No, because they are different people.  Though two people of the same sexual identity who identify as straight having a Bond is always a test of the relationship...” she sighed, “My experience of Bonding with Olly was life changing.” A smile pulled at her lips, like she couldn’t help it, “It felt right... It felt like coming home.  It felt like everything I had been waiting for had finally happened.  But it wasn’t love.”

“So you don’t love him?” Stiles had met Olly weeks ago and saw him around the facility from time to time and when he was with Divya, they appeared like a couple who loved each other.

A shy smile curled the corner of her lips, “I didn’t say that.  I do love him.  And he loves me, but that came later,” her smile dropped a little, “And not all Bonded couples fall in love or love each other.  Some are just very good friends.  The truth is, I don’t think any Bond pair is the same.”

“Are there ones that hate each other?  I mean, they can’t all be perfect, right?”

“Nothing is perfect but yes... there are those that are not compatible as people, even if they are perfect Bond pairs.  Those are... regrettable.”  

“What if you never Bonded?”

“Well... no one really knows what happens to someone who hasn’t Bonded.  It hasn’t exactly happened yet that we know of.  Even the older Sentinels and Guides... it could still happen.  Obviously if someone dies that would mean their partner might never Bond, but we don’t really know how it all works.  It’s possible that if someone’s supposed Bond partner dies, another person becomes suitable for Bonding?” Divya shrugged before brushing aside her dark bangs from her brow, “I’m sure there is a Bond mate for everyone though...even with the current shortage of Guides.  To me it just means we haven’t found them yet.”

“I don’t know... I don’t think I want to Bond.” he ran his finger over a minute scratch on the table surface, “Being connected to someone... it sounds good in theory, but it’s like suddenly this whole person that’s suddenly tied to you against their will.  And since I’m a Sentinel, I’m supposed to make the decisions about our lives.  I mean, I’d be controlling their life.  The Guide would have to do what I wanted, right?” Stiles didn’t like people making decisions about his life - he couldn’t imagine someone else would either.

Divya tilted her head slightly as she gazed to the left, “True... to an extent.  Sentinels tend to direct what the pair are going to be doing and where they go,” then she leaned forward, “But keep in mind Stiles, while it might be standard for Sentinels to take charge of the relationship of the Bond, it doesn’t have to be that way.  And I have a feeling, if you Bond, it won’t be a normal one...  You don’t seem to follow any standards of behavior.”

He laughed loudly then said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Popping up from her chair, she scooped up her tablet, “Good, it was intended as one.  Now, you need some rest.  You have more tests tomorrow.”

 

*************************

 

The first time he had a panic attack after the explosion was during a real life experience test.  They had a false environment room where different stimuli were injected - street noise, grocery store smells, flashing lights.  He was fine till the scent of gasoline filled the room.  His heart beat began accelerating and his chest constricting, his breaths becoming short.  Stiles tried to fight it, but his own blood pumping through his veins became loud in his ears and he suddenly was terrified that he’d be deafened by it till it simply stopped.  The test was immediately halted as his legs folded beneath him, sending him crashing to the floor and gasping for air like a fish stranded on land.  

There was the thundering of footsteps and noises that some part of him identified as voices.  But they became lost in the beating of his heart which was too fast... too fast... and there was no air - a knot was tying tighter and tighter in his chest, his breathing happening in short quick gasps.  Divya’s voice finally seeped into his consciousness as his vision dimmed to a pinpoint of light.  Desperately he clung to it till he could focus on the life line it offered.  “... iles...  ...eath....  Stiles...  focus...  listen to my voice...  I’m here.  I’m here next to you.  You aren’t alone, I’m here.  Can you hear me?”

He managed a nod even though he felt lightheaded and dizzy.

“We’re going to breathe now...  In through our noses... one, two, three...  out through our mouths... one, two, three...” She repeated the phrases over and over till he was doing it with her.  Then she extended the count to four and when he managed that, she extended it to six.  

Eventually he was breathing on his own and his heart rate was back to normal, but his body was jittery.  

The room was just a room again, with normal lights and no scents or sounds and Divya was sitting on the floor next to him.  She looked worried and concerned, but with a smile of relief on her lips, “Hey there...”

“... What happened?”

“Why don’t you tell me? Was it an anxiety attack?  A panic attack?”

He nodded and pushed himself up into a sitting position, “What were the stimuli?”

“You were meant to be experiencing walking by a gas station.  Garage noises, people talking, light settings were for dusk with air set at autumn temperatures in Vermont.  Scents were soil, decomposing leaves, oil, smoke from a backfiring car, gasoline and some cheap aftershave.”

“Gasoline.  It was the gasoline.” Stiles murmured.  

Divya was silent for a bit, obviously taking in the way he was hunched on the floor before gently saying, “That was part of the experience you had coming Online.  It might be connected to that trauma.” her head tilted, “Unless the gasoline smell is from another experience?”

Stiles shook his head.  It was a lie.  He knew exactly why gasoline bothered him - outside of gas line explosion.  But he wasn’t going to discuss it.  If Divya sensed he was lying, she didn’t call him on it.  Instead she simply announced, “All right.  Enough for today.  I think you could use a break.”

 

*************************

 

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll do once you are cleared by the Institute,” Divya asked as they walked to the cafeteria.  

“Some... I’m still not sure yet.” The truth was, he had come to find being in the S.I. rather comforting.  Leaving to go back out into the real world was not that attractive a thought.  If it wasn’t for missing his Dad and his friends, he would be happy to remain in the soft, simple world he was in now.  “I think I’ve had a lot of recruiters who are pretending to _not_ be recruiters, being all buddy-buddy with me to have a chat about all the awesome ‘opportunities’,” he made quotation fingers when he said opportunities, “I have at my fingertips.”

The older woman chuckled, “Alpha Sentinels _are_ a commodity.”

“Everyone wants the awesome.” he gestured to himself, “But there is only so much Stiles to go around.”

This made her laugh again before saying, “What about private sector?  You could finish school?”

He frowned, “I don’t know.  I think I was only going because it was what you’re supposed to do... You know?  Go to high school, graduate, go to college, graduate, get a job, get married, have kids...” He waved a hand in a random direction, “I’d like to have a degree... I mean, it’d be nice to have it.  Something to show my father.  I know he’d want me to finish.” he smirked, “You know, in case this whole Sentinel thing doesn’t work out.”

“We could contact your university, make arrangements.  You simply have to let us know what you want to do and I’ll work on having it happen. We offer that to all the young Sentinels and Guides.”

“In return for...?”

Divya blushed slightly, “Well, they’d probably want some assurance that you’d be coming back into the S.I. in some capacity...”

“Hmmm...”

“You’re just about ready to graduate here Stiles.  While no one will actually kick you out, they’ll be pestering you to do something with your gifts.”

Stiles sighed and slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  Another added bonus of gaining control over his abilities had been real clothes, though he still kept wearing the shirts because they were amazingly soft.  Divya always wore her grays and he wondered if she had a choice in what she wore or not.  He never saw her outside of their allotted time together.  Whenever he asked her about her life outside of their professional interactions, she kept it all very surface.  She and Olly lived together in an apartment that was within walking distance of the S.I. building.  Olly was a Beta Sentinel and he worked as a threat assessor for the S.I., taking in requests and determining if the S.I. was needed or if it should be involved.  Her family moved from India to Seattle before she was born.  But she wouldn’t talk for long about her personal life, insisting that they focus on him and his control.  It annoyed Stiles because he just hated not knowing things.  And he still wasn’t allowed to use the internet!

“Oh,” Divya perked up, “Tomorrow you’ve been approved for your first solo excursion outside the S.I. for testing.”

“You mean I have to go out on the street on my own?”

“I’ll be there,” she corrected herself, “Well, you’ll have an earpiece and I’ll be listening.  We’ll have a monitor on you to keep track of your vitals and if anything happens, there will be a team there in seconds.  You have nothing to worry about.”

“Except having another panic attack.”

“Stiles, we talked about that,” Divya brushes her long bangs from her brow, “We know what set it off and you are now aware of it.  That means it won’t take you by surprise again and you’ll be better able to handle it.  While gasoline isn’t a common smell, it isn’t... uncommon either.  If you want, we can work on making you nose blind to it.”

“Nose blind.” he repeated flatly.

“Yes.  It’s not something Sentinels do often, but in some cases, if there is a particularly strong reaction to a certain stimuli, they can make their senses blind to it so that they don’t trigger them.  It’s only used in extreme cases, which I’m not sure this is.  But if you are very worried about it, then we can work on that.” Her tone of voice suggested she’s really not behind the idea.

“Nah... I’ll be fine.” Stiles wasn't sure he'd be fine, but he would pretend.  Years of ‘being fine’ in the Beacon Hills fun-factory of monsters trained him for that.  Besides, if he could survive Jackson ‘The Asshat’ Whittemore being a murderous lizard man, then he could handle the smell of gasoline.  He could handle this.

 

*************************

 

He was wrong.  He could not handle this.

Stiles found himself standing on the busy, morning rush hour streets of Cascade, huddling in his jacket and trying not to scream.  There were too many people bustling around him and the air was polluted with exhaust and smoke, chatting and perfume, soaps and noise.  Standing like a rock in the river of hustling people, he closed his eyes and tried to dial everything down.  Buffeted by shoulders and bags, he tried not to fall or stumble.  He could hear his own heartbeat ratcheting up as he grew more and more anxious.  

“Stiles, it’s okay.  We did this the other day.” Divya’s voice was in his ear, calm and patient.

She’s right.  They did.  But she was a buffer to everything.  He could focus on her instead of the barely controlled chaos going on around him right now.  

“Relax,” she urged, “You can do this.”

He shook his head, keeping his eyes squeezed shut tightly, his shoulders hunched up as hands curled into fists in his jacket pockets.  His mind scrambled to find his training to gain control of the situation, something he and Divya worked on, or one of the other Guides who sometimes came to meet with him now.  Instead of them though, he remembered a conversation with Scott.  He was telling Stiles about his meeting with his Dad, Agent McCall after he found out the man was there to remove the Sheriff from his position in Beacon Hills.  Scott said he’d been so pissed off at his Dad that he almost wolfed out on him - which Stiles was touched by _“Aww Buddy, you almost ripped your Dad’s face off for me!”_ \- and Melissa had to pull him into the other room.  She told him that he had to find his anchor, but since he and Allison had broken up, Scott didn’t have her anymore.  Then Melissa told him, _“Be your own anchor.”_   The words echoed through his mind now.

“Be your own anchor,” He muttered to himself.  Right.  He could do that.  

“What was that Stiles?”

Instead of answering, he focused on the thought over and over.  _Be your own anchor...  Be your own anchor...  Be your own anchor..._ The noise grew less - it didn’t go away, but it did get to a normal and manageable level.  Slowly, his honey brown eyes opened and he took a large relaxing breath.

“You there Stiles?”

“Yeah...” he breathed, “Here...  All good.”  Then a wide smile parted his lips.  All good. 

 

************************

 

“If you’re sure this is what you want to do?” Divya asked as she sat with Stiles in his room.  He’d just told her that he wanted to join the Sentinel Investigative team and work out in the field.  It was as close to using his Criminology studies as possible within the S.I. and there was enough down time that he could get a degree through Berkley as well.  

“Yeah,” he didn’t tell her that it had all the things he wanted to do in the world - research, investigating and being there in the moment.  So often Scott and the others were worried about the frail human being among them that he had to hang back or was left to feel helpless in the face of the monsters coming at them.  Being an Investigator at crime scenes, using his abilities...  Not being a liability...  “It’s what I want... Plus I get to travel.  Dillon told me Investigators get to go all around the world.” 

“From what I saw, you’ll be leaving almost immediately.” 

Stiles nodded, scratching absently at the table surface.  He’d been cleared a week ago as an active Sentinel and since then, the different ‘recruiters’ for different departments within the S.I. had been coming at him a bit more aggressively.  He had done his research - as always - also asking S.I. people about what they did and how they liked it.  Most were fairly happy with what they were doing and it wasn’t like you couldn’t change departments or jobs if you found you hated what you were doing.  

Divya leaned back in her chair, “So you won’t be visiting your Father in Beacon Hills before you go?”

He shrugged, feeling like a kid who got caught doing something.  “I’m going to call him and he can come and see me here in Cascade.  I spoke to Stevenson and he said it was no problem to have my Dad here now that I was cleared.”

“That’s not my point.  Don’t you want to go home?  It’s the holidays.  You don’t want to see your friends?  It’s been 2 years of isolation for you.”

It had been, outside of a quick Skype session with his Dad once in a while.  But he hadn’t wanted to go back to Beacon Hills before the explosion and his feelings hadn’t changed now.  There were too many memories and things he’d rather forget sitting in Beacon Hills and yes, maybe he was a coward, but he didn’t want to face them.  Besides, he was an adult and he didn’t have to do things he didn’t want to do anymore (And yes, that sounded childish in his head).

She seemed to concede, “All right...”

“What about you?  Going home for the holidays?”

“I will be,” Divya smiled, “Now that you have ‘graduated’ you are no longer my assignment really.  I’ll be assigned another Online Sentinel when I come back so now we are just two colleagues.”

He made a face, “That sounds so clinical.”

“What would you call us?”

“Friends of course!” he grinned and when she chuckled, he said, “Come on... Admit it.  You’re going to miss this gorgeous mug of mine!  And all my pearls of wisdom.”

“I will!” her eyes glittered, “Who else will tell me all the movies I should have watched to be a fulfilled human being.” 

“Hey, those were legitimate suggestions.  The fact that you have still not see the first Avengers film is a travesty.  I would have been willing to concede on the second and third of the original Spiderman films, but the fact you have not seen Avengers is just...  wrong.” he flailed his arms out, “Promise me.  Promise me you will see it.  For me?  Let me know that my time here has not been in vain.”

“Oh god Stiles, you drama queen!  Yes, I will do my best to see it.  I promise!  You do know you were here for more important reasons than to expand my cinema experiences.”

“Fate brought me here to you,” Stiles said in mock seriousness, “The universe knew of a need and I came here so that I might fulfill my purpose.  I can move on now.” 

“You’re such a weirdo,” she sighed good naturedly.

“But you love me, right?”

“Lord help me... I do.” 

Stiles smirked, “I grow on people.  Like a fungus.”

“Now there’s an image.” Divya chuckled then sighed, “You should still think about going home for the holidays.  You can leave for training after you know.”

“Maybe.  I’ll think about it.” It was a lie and maybe she knew it.  But she’d learned that these types of lies harmed no one else but him and didn’t call him on it.

 

************************

 

Stiles hung up on his father with a smile on his face.  It had been great to talk to him for as long as he wanted without any worry about being caught or getting Divya in trouble.  The man was happy to hear that Stiles was finally done and ready to go back out into the world - he was less happy about Stiles going into work that would take him around the world to investigate threats and help solve crimes.  While Dillon might have played it down, there was real danger in the work he was doing and his father knew it - there was no bullshitting the Sheriff.  He tried to placate his dad by telling him he would be getting his degree from Berkley, focusing on Criminology and English Literature on top of getting some awesome skills from the S.I. during his time with them.  Being a bit traditional, his dad was glad he’d have a degree to ‘fall back on’, even though that type of thinking really didn’t apply anymore.

His father grew less unhappy when Stiles mentioned a visit to Cascade after Christmas.  They could spend New Years together in the city and physically see each other.  He could hear the question that wasn’t asked _“Why don’t you come down here?”_ but considering that was the last conversation they had before the explosion, neither of them were eager to repeat it - As if by doing so, they might be jinxing things.  

The Sheriff filled him in on some of the news in town.  Things were still pretty quiet - no monsters of the week showing up.  Then there was a call on the other line and Stiles realized his father was in his office at the station.  They did some quick goodbyes, Stiles promising to email him the info for plane tickets and such for his trip to Cascade and also promised a phone call soon.  

It was quiet at the S.I. with many going home to visit family and celebrate the holidays.  There were other Sentinels and Guides, but no where near as much staff as normal... Stiles equated it to Hogwarts during Christmas.  He had been feeling pretty lonely, wandering the halls with nothing much to do now that his tests and training was all over.  He definitely missed Divya.  At least now he had access to the internet...  And found he really hadn’t missed too much in the world - things were still pretty screwed up out there.

He tapped his fingers on the desk, debating as he stared at his phone.  It was Christmas Eve and he figured everyone would be hanging out with their families.  “Screw it...” he made the call and heard the ringing, his heart pounding in his chest with nerves.  After a few second that felt a lot longer, he heard the familiar voice chirp out, “Hey good lookin’!”

After laughing, Stiles snarked, “Hey handsome!”

“Stiles?” Scott’s near shrieked in disbelief.  Stiles could easily imagine his best friend’s face, all wide eyed and mouth gaping.

“Yeah, who’d you think it was?  Kira?”

“I... uh...” now he heard hesitation, “Yeah, no... uh we broke up.”

“What!” Stiles shouted - it was his turn to be wide eyed and having his jaw drop, “I’m out of it for a while and you two break up?  What the hell Scott?”

“Dude...” It was clear that the other young man was out of sorts, having some emotional whiplash from the situation.

It was understandable - this was a lot to handle, so Stiles decided to be merciful, “All right, we’re dealing with that later.  How are you doing?  You’re at home right?”

“Yeah--“

“Is that Stiles?” Liam called from the background and Stiles marveled at how clearly he could hear the young man over the phone, “I thought I heard his voice.”

“Puppy!” Stiles yelled gleefully.

“Oh god, don’t call me that!”

Scott was laughing, “Everyone is here... Hold on, let me go into the living room.” The sound of more voices took over and he guessed Scott was now where everyone else was.

Lydia’s strident tone was clear through the phone, “Stiles!  That’s Stiles on the phone!  Let me talk to him!”

“Oh god, no Scott!  Save me!” Stiles was terrified of whatever scolding would come from her.

There was a bit of noise, which he assumed was Scott dodging the red head and then he said, “I’ll put the call on speaker phone Lydia!  Here... hold on.”

The sound changed and he could hear everyone moving around... The rustle of their clothes.  “Hey everybody!” he greeted cheerfully, feeling awkward and nervous about the reception he’d get from them.

There was a chaotic chorus of warm greetings returned and he heard Melissa, Lydia, Jordan, Danny, Liam and Mason.  He guessed that Malia was still somewhere in Nevada while Isaac was still in France.  He sighed with the weight of memories before refocusing on the present.  “What’s going on with all of you?”

“With us?” Lydia asked with a snort, “Stiles, you’ve been gone for like 2 years now.  What’s going on with you?”

“Well, I’m cleared now.  I mean... I’m all done with my training.  So... it’s official.”

“You’re a Sentinel,” Jordan said.

“Yup... Even have a little card and everything.”

“Are there secret handshakes too?” Scott teased.

“I’d tell you, but if I did, I’d have to kill you.” he joked back, suddenly feeling so homesick he was surprised he didn’t drown from it.

“That’s so cool!” Liam said, “You’re like an X-Man now.”

It was Melissa who asked, “So you’re okay though...?”

There was a warmth around his heart from the question.  She wasn’t his mom and would never replace her, but Melissa was as close to a mother as he had... and whatever kind of deadly shenanigans they got up to during their years in high school, her concern was always for their safety.  No matter that Scott could heal, it hurt her to see him in pain...  And she always asked Stiles if he was okay, worried about him and his frail body, “Yeah... I’m good.  No lasting negative effects from the... uh... explosion.”

“What level are you?” Lydia asked.

Leave it to her to want to know that.  No nonsense.  He figured she had already read all of the science papers and research on Sentinels and probably understood it all better than the experts at the Institute.  Still... he had been literally dying to say the following... giving it an appropriate amount of dramatic pause, “I’m the Alpha now.”

The silence that followed was broken by, “Seriously?” Scott asked, clearly not sure if it was true or if his best friend was making a lame joke.

“Seriously.” Stiles smirked.

“An Alpha level Sentinel...” Mason’s voice held some awe.

“Stiles,” Lydia breathed, “Do you know how rare that is?”

“Ugh... yes Lydia... I know.” It was how everyone responded to learning his Alpha level status, “But it doesn’t really mean anything.”  A part of him hated how being an Alpha level was what defined him to the people around him now.  Like there was nothing else special or worthwhile to Stiles, “I’m still me.”

Lydia seemed to understand because she said, “Of course you are.  Nothing will change you Stiles.”

“Dude...” Scott laughed, “That’s so cool!  You’re an Alpha!” Stiles could always count on Scott to embrace things with the appropriate amount of gravitas...  “We’re Alpha brothers now!”

“Do you have X-ray vision?” Liam asked.

“That’s not real,” Danny’s eye roll could practically be heard to go with it.

“Danny’s right Liam.  I don’t have X-Ray vision, but I probably have better sight than you.”

“All your senses should actually be better than a werewolf’s.” Lydia observed.

“Whoa,” Scott marveled, “You always beat me at Call of Duty before... How bad are you gonna beat me with enhanced senses?”

“I’ll dial it down for ya Scotty buddy.  Wouldn’t want to beat you too badly.”

“So,” Danny interjected, “When are you coming back?  It’s not the same without you here Stiles.”

“Oh yeah...  Well--”

He heard the front door of the house open and he thought maybe it was his father, till her heard another familiar voice that made his heart stutter, “What’s going on?” It was Derek.

Scott answered cheerfully, “It’s Stiles!”

A woman whose voice he didn’t recognize asked, “What’s a Stiles?”

“Not a what, a who.  My best friend, Stiles.  He’s on speaker phone right now.”

“Oh,” the woman chuckled, “Hi Stiles!  Nice to... sort of meet you?”

“Uh, hey!” he tried to insert some enthusiasm into his voice.  “Yeah so, guys... Listen, I gotta go.” He didn’t want to hear Derek’s voice.  Stiles didn’t want to know how he was doing or what was going on with him.  

“But we just started talking!” Scott protested and Stiles was sure there were puppy eyes happening.  Thank god this was a phone call and not a Skype - he’d never been able deny Scott’s puppy eyes.

“I know, but you know how it is... Lots of Sentinel business to take care of here.  But I miss you guys and it’s so great hearing your voices.  I’ll call you all soon now that I’m cleared!  I promise.  Okay?” he was gripping his knee tight enough to whiten his his finger tips, “Uh, Scott can you take me off speaker?”

“Sure dude,” He heard the sound change, narrowing as the phone was switched off from the speaker set up and then it was only Scott, “It’s great to hear your voice again man...  I’ve missed you.”

Behind his best friend, he heard the others calling out farewells and various sweet goodbyes.  Stiles swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes, “I’ve missed you too buddy.  And we’ll talk again soon.”

“Yeah, no more not talking for years on end.”

“Nope...” He smiled, “Merry Christmas Scott.”

“Happy Chanukah Stiles.”

He chuckled, “Thanks Scott.” then he clicked the phone off, wanting to end the call before it dragged on too much longer and Scott asked when he was going to come visit.  It was there... silent between them... and he didn’t have an answer.  Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his chest, trying to loosen the tightness he felt there.  

Derek...  That asshole.

 

*************************

 

Scott stared at his phone for a few seconds.  

“Stiles is a Sentinel?” Samantha asked, her cheeks and nose pink from being outside in the cold night air.  Derek had his arm around her, slowly rubbing his hand up and down her arm and shoulder to help warm her up.  It was hard to read the older man’s expression.  His emotions were shifting, so his scent was confused, but his face was neutral.  

“Yeah...  A couple of years ago, he.... what’s the word?  Came Online?”  When Samantha nodded, he continued, “He’s been at the S.I. since, isolated till he could control it.  They finally okayed him.”

“That’s great!” she smiled - obviously well aware with how things worked at the S.I., “What level is he?”

Scott’s eyes shifted from Samantha to Derek then back again when he stated, “He’s an Alpha.”

“Wow!” her eyes widened as she took that in, “That’s... hunh...” She gazed around the room at the others, “Is he going to come back to visit now that he’s able to?”

Derek inhaled quickly, his eyes meeting Scott’s now, though they were still unreadable.  The Alpha shrugged, “I’m not really sure.  He didn’t say,” then he managed a smile.  Scott suspected that Stiles wouldn’t be coming back... He knew Stiles well enough to know that something had been wrong and his best friend had wanted to end the call before it was addressed.  Stiles hadn’t change - he still avoided his problems, hoping they’d go away.  Of course, they never did.

 


End file.
